Profoundly Notorious
by Yassentherussianassasin
Summary: The scientists were counting on three promising boy heroes. What they weren't expecting was how difficult it could be to manage seven year olds Harry Potter, Alex Rider, and Percy Jackson.
1. chapter 1

Alex woke up with perspiration running down his face. The first thing he did was wonder why he was in a hospital. He recognized the normal hospital-y stuff, like the screens showing your heart rate and vitals, and the blank walls with a single chair in the back of the room. But he'd never had things hooked up to him. They were sticky, like tiny suction cups. Alex reasoned that's what they were. But how were they being transmitted to the screens by his bed? Which ones were they being transmitted to?

Alex suddenly realized that he was alone. Ian was in Hong Kong. Jack was... where was she?

"Jack?" Alex said quietly. He sat up. "Jack!" No one answered.

Alex started breathing quickly. He was scared. Why was he in a hospital? Where was Jack? Was he hurt? Did he have a concussion? He knew what the feeling was; he'd gotten one during a particularly physical football match. But... no. That couldn't be right. Why couldn't he remember...?

Suddenly, the door creaked open. A head appeared, with scruffy dark hair and sea-green eyes. Then, the door pushed open farther and a boy shuffled into the doorway.

"Um... hi," the boy said shyly.

"Hi," was all Alex could think of to say.

"You're awake," the boy said, sounding a little breathless.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm asleep." He started fake snoring.

The boy laughed, an infectious sound that made Alex want to laugh too. "You're funny."

"I try."

The boy paused, then blurted, "Why do you live with your uncle?"

Alex stopped. "How do you know about that?"

The boy's face went white. "I—I'm sorry—I just... knew a bit about you, is all."

Alex nodded. "And this makes me trust you?"

The boy shook his head. "No, it's not like that. It's just—you're the only other kid my age who's here. And my—my ADHD makes me blurt stuff out like that. Sorry."

"ADHD?" Alex asked, distracted.

"Yeah," the boy said uncomfortably. "My mom... my mom and I just found out about it a couple months ago and..." His face darkened. "You're not... freaked out, are you?"

"Why would I be freaked out?" Alex said.

The boy shuffled his feet. "Some people—a lot, actually... think I'm weird because of the diagnosis."

"I don't think you're weird," Alex told him. "You seem perfectly likable to me."

The boy's face brightened. "Really?"

Alex nodded. "Really."

The boy came over by Alex's bedside, and held out his hand. "I'm Percy. Percy Jackson."

Alex shook his hand. "Alex Rider."

Percy smiled. "I know. I read your file."

Alex blinked. "I have a file?"

Percy nodded. "Uh-huh. It's not that big, just kinda full of words, ya know? About you, and your uncle Ian—"

"He doesn't like it when I call him Uncle," Alex said quickly. "Just... Ian."

"And Jack, too," Percy said. "Your housekeeper. Is she nice?"

"The nicest," Alex told him. He hesitated. "Percy... how old are you?"

"Eight," Percy replied. "My birthday was in August."

"I'm seven," Alex said. "I turn eight in January."

"Cool!" Percy responded. "So we're almost the same!"

"Yeah," Alex said thoughtfully. He looked around the hospital room. "Say, Percy... can you tell me where we are? Are we in a hospital?"

Percy shrugged. "Of sorts. They call it a research lab."

"Who's 'they?'" Alex asked him.

"The doctors and the scientists," Percy answered.

"And what are they researching?"

"That's a tougher one," Percy said, tapping his finger on his chin. "But I think it's us."

The boys crept out of Alex's hospital room and Percy led him to a small room with one bunk bed and a single bed.

"You'll he staying with me," Percy said. "I've got the bottom bunk. You want the top or the single?"

Alex shrugged. "I'll take the top."

"You got any bags?" Percy asked. He seemed much more comfortable with Alex now that they had officially met.

Alex shook his head. "No."

"Great, me neither," Percy said brightly. "When I got here a couple of weeks ago, I didn't have anything with me. They just get stuff for you based on your file." He gestured to Alex. "See? You're a Chelsea supporter, aren't you?"

"Born and raised," Alex said. He looked down, and saw that he was indeed wearing a clean Chelsea jersey. But he hadn't been wearing it before, he was sure of it.

Percy swung his legs on the bottom bunk. "That's what I mean. You get good stuff here. Even the food's good. And I've been to enough schools to know that good cafeteria food is hard to come by."

Alex sat next to Percy on the bunk. "So, you've been here for weeks?" He asked him.

Percy nodded.

"And there hasn't been another kid here?"

"No," Percy said. "For awhile, the doctors called me First. Cause I was the first kid here."

"That's sick," Alex said.

Percy nodded. "Yeah. But the best thing to do is to tell them your name as soon as possible. But don't get too angry when they call you a number. They just smile when you do that."

"Good to know," Alex said. "Reckon they'll call me Second?"

"Maybe they'll lose count by the time this place is full of kids," Percy said hopefully.

Alex smiled. "You, two-thousand twenty-one! No, you! I meant you!"

Percy laughed. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Percy called. The door opened, and a woman appeared. "Hello, Percy," she said. She nodded to Alex. "Second."

"I don't know if you knew," Alex said quietly, standing up from the bunk. "But my name is Alex."

But the woman only smiled. "We'll see about that, Second."

Percy shot him a look that meant, see what I mean? and asked the woman, "Dr. Wilkinson, when's lunch?"

Dr. Wilkinson smiled again. "Twelve minutes, Percy."

Percy raised his eyebrows up and down at Alex, who rolled his eyes. "Twelve minutes it is." Dr. Wilkinson looked back at Alex. "I'll need to see you after lunch, 'kay?"

Alex shrugged. "If you say my name right, maybe you will."

Dr. Wilkinson looked thoughtful. "Hmm. I suppose you could be stubborn like that. Or... you could find out where you are." She left.

Alex turned to Percy. "I can't go to see her, Percy. There's something off about her."

"There's something off about everybody," Percy said offhandedly. "You'll get used to it."

All of a sudden Alex thought of Alice in Wonderland. We're all mad here. Wasn't that appropriate? But Alex wouldn't fall into their trap. And he would take Percy with him: the poor kid had been here for too long already.

But the first step to getting out of there was to find out exactly where he was. And to do that...

Alex sighed. "I guess I have an appointment after lunch."

Percy really liked Alex. He seemed nice enough. He would probably be fitting in at the lab soon. Maybe the adults would call him his real name by the end of the week. But something was nagging at Percy: did he want Alex to get accustomed here? Did he want to get accustomed here? Part of him wanted to stay here, where the food was good and he was treated normally, not like some freak with ADHD. But... he wanted to go home. He wanted to go home to his mom with her blue pancakes and sweet candy smell. He wanted to go home to his mom's warm smiles and hugs when he got through the school day without something odd happening to him. He even wanted to—he shuddered—go back to Smelly Gabe, who treated him terribly but was stupid enough to be predictable. Here, Percy didn't know when he was going to have a surprise doctor's visit with Dr. Crandall, or have to get pulled out of individual classes to do some enhanced enrichment work. He couldn't even read it anyway, with his dyslexia, but the adults didn't seem to care. Even if he was picked on at school and he wasn't wanted by his stepdad at home, Percy still wanted to go back to his house. Back to normal. Back to his waiting

mom's arms.

That settled it. Percy was getting out of there. And he was taking Alex with him.

After lunch, while Alex headed off to talk to Dr. Wilkinson, Percy went to the library. It was where he always went after lunch, but he didn't go to read. He looked to make sure the librarian, Mrs. Jáves, was gone. Then, he climbed onto the top of a shelf. He sat there, looking at all of the books, of histories of the lab and fairytales and adventure stories. He would read books like that someday. At first, when he'd first tried to read, his mom had really pushed him to try harder. But he couldn't make the words form. He couldn't unscramble he letters. He couldn't string together sentences like the other kids could. Finally, his mother realized that he had dyslexia, and that it was normal that he couldn't put the letters together. But Percy saw other people read. He saw other kids and adults pour over pages of books and magazines and newspapers like their lives depended on it. And he wished... he wished he had that feeling, of just once—just once—being able to fit the words together.

Percy sat down on the shelf and swung his legs. The shelf wasn't as high up as some of the others, which he found slightly comforting. At least, if he fell, it wouldn't be such a big drop. Quietly, he started humming to himself. Don't worry about a thing. Don't worry, be happy.

Thump.

Percy stopped. "He... hello?" He called out tentatively. "Anybody here?"

There was no answer. He saw a shadow flit across the library door, of a small figure. But then it was gone, and the silence of the library was complete once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex was confused. This wasn't okay. The hallways were all empty. Where was Dr. Wilkinson? He always considered himself a curious kid, who could easily find out things on his own, but he'd never been put in a situation like this before. Maybe he could take it like a game Ian had once played with him, a variation of hide-and-seek.  
It had been last year, a couple days after Alex's sixth birthday. It was cold and rainy and there was nothing to do outside, so Ian went up to him in the sitting room.  
"Hey, Alex," he said, "do you want to play a game with me?"  
Alex remembered that his eyes had lit up at that. Ian had actually wanted to spend time with him. It'd been a miracle! How could he say no?  
"A game?" He echoed. "What sort of game?"  
"Here are the rules," Ian told him. "First, I'll hide. You close your eyes and count to any number you want. By the time you're done counting, I'll be in a hiding place. What you have to do is find me."  
"But... what if I don't?" Alex had been increasing confused. What if Ian never came out of his hiding spot? What if Alex lost him forever?  
"Just make sure you do," Ian said shortly. "Now, close your eyes and count to a number."  
Alex closed his eyes, and put his hands over his face. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..." he counted all the way to fifty. When he opened his eyes, everything was dark. Why...? Then, he realized that the lights had been turned off. He looked for Ian all around the house, only relying on his other four senses. Touch. Hearing. Taste. Smell. Alex found Ian crouching behind a laundry basket half an hour later.  
"Good," Ian said. "Let's try again, but try to find me sooner this time."  
"Okay!" Alex agreed, and they did it again and again, until Alex could find Ian in less than ten minutes. What he didn't see, though, were Ian's small proud smiles when the lights were off and his nephew found where he had been hiding.  
Alex shook his head, wondering if he'd missed Dr. Wilkinson's door by now. He kept walking down the hallway in search of someone, anyone, to help him find the doctor.  
A few minutes later, he saw someone running past in a white coat.  
"Hey!" Alex called. The person stopped, and looked over. It was a man, with close-cropped hair and kind eyes. He smiled at Alex.  
"Hey there," he said. "What's your name?"  
"Alex," Alex said breathlessly. "I just got here today. Could you tell me where Dr. Wilkinson is?"  
The man nodded. "Sure, son." He pointed down the hall. "Next hallway, first door to the left. Just knock."  
"Thanks, Dr...?"  
"Oliver," the man replied.  
"Thanks, Dr. Oliver!" Alex said.  
"It was my pleasure, Second," Dr. Oliver answered, the kind smile flitting to a nervous expression before returning again.  
Alex crossed his arms. "You asked me my name," he pouted. "You could've at least had the decency to use it."  
He took off down the hall and to Dr. Wilkinson's door, wanting to be as far away from the doctor as he could.  
As he knocked, one doctor to another was what Alex thought of. He had no idea that he would be thinking this more often over time.  
The door opened, to reveal Dr. Wilkinson smiling at him. Inside his head, Alex scoffed, Dr. Wilkinson's smiling. What else is new?  
"Hello, Second," she said. "Come on in."  
Alex didn't say a word as he entered, and saw that the room looked just like your standardized doctor's office, with the white walls, desk, swivel chair, and long table covered with a white sheet.  
"Just hop onto that table," the doctor said in a friendly tone.  
Alex obliged, and swung his legs up and down.  
"Alex," he said.  
"What was that?"  
"I said, 'Alex,'" Alex said, looking down at his swinging legs. "My name is Alex."  
"For now, your name is Second," Dr. Wilkinson said firmly, like it was a hard fact that he couldn't change.  
"But it's not," Alex insisted.  
"Stop stressing yourself out, you'll break a sweat," the doctor said listlessly. She took a cloth from her white coat and ran it under the tap of the sink. Then, she pushed the hair out of his face and held the damp cloth to Alex's forehead.  
"How does that feel?" She asked him.  
"You sound like a psychiatrist," Alex said repulsively.  
Dr. Wilkinson laughed without humor. "I try."  
She took the cloth off of his forehead and put it under a microscope. She pressed her eyes to the small lenses and twisted the dials.  
"Is that my DNA?" Alex asked brightly.  
Dr. Wilkinson didn't look up. "What was that, sweetie?"  
"My DNA," Alex repeated. "Are you getting information about my cells from my sweat on that cloth?"  
"Not exactly," Dr. Wilkinson said, taking the cloth and zipping it into a plastic bag.  
"That's what forensic scientists do when they have evidence," Alex pointed out, gesturing to the bag.  
"Mmm?"  
"Whenever the forensic scientists at a crime scene find a piece of evidence, they put it in a bag," Alex said matter-of-factly.  
Dr. Wilkinson set down the bag. "And where did you learn that, Second?"  
"My uncle sometimes lets me watch CSI," Alex said. "Only on Saturdays, though. He said the Friday ones had too much blood. Lost limbs. That sort of thing."  
Dr. Wilkinson took her stethoscope and walked over to him. "Really? And did your uncle tell you anything about this CSI show?"  
"Not much," Alex said. "He let me figure it out for myself. And it was pretty easy, anyways. You just have to ignore the cussing and the 'what the hell is this?' 'cause that's just the unnecessaries."  
"Take deep breaths for me," Dr. Wilkinson instructed as she slipped the stethoscope down Alex's shirt to his chest.  
Alex took deep breaths. When she was done, the doctor typed some results into her computer. Alex watched as his information was packed into the data system. He wondered who had access to it. The other doctors? The other adults? People outside of the lab? Maybe Ian could hack into it. He was good at typing random numbers and letters into the mainframes, anyways. Alex had watched him do it, quietly, one night at eleven o'clock because he hadn't been able to sleep.  
"What are you doing, Ian?" He'd asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
"Work," was Ian's gruff answer. Before he could stop him, Alex had sat in a chair next to him and stole a look at the computer screen. "Is this for the bank?"  
But Ian had waved him away. "Go back to sleep, Alex," he said hurriedly. "I've got work to do."  
Alex had rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. He still hadn't been able to get any sleep that night.  
Alex came back to the dreary doctor's office by Dr. Wilkinson asking him to lay on his back. He did, and the doctor took some notes.  
"Which hand do you write with?"  
"My right."  
"Which eye do you favor?"  
"Depends which one is closed."  
"Have you ever broken any bones?"  
"Once a finger from a bike incident. And an arm from falling out of a tree."  
"So, you like going outdoors?"  
"It's where I get my oxygen."  
"Have you ever been to the dentist?"  
"Are my teeth really that bad?"  
"Have you ever had a cut infected before?"  
"Not that I'm aware of. But I don't pour unsanitary bacteria into my paper cuts, I assure you."  
"Can you tell me what letters you see?"  
Numbers flashed onto the ceiling. Alex figured there must be a projector somewhere on her desk.  
Alex was fed up with all of the questions. So he decided to do a little experimenting of his own.  
"I see a few," he said.  
Dr. Wilkinson looked up, obviously surprised. "Which ones?"  
Alex glanced up at the ceiling at the numbers. "There's a T, an H, an I, and an S. Another I, and another S. Ooh, and a P, O, I, N, T. An L, an E, and two Ss."  
Dr. Wilkinson looked at him, confused. "I don't see—" she stopped. "You think you're funny, don't you?"  
As best as he could, Alex shrugged. "It's really based on your opinion."  
Dr. Wilkinson gave him a stern look. "That kind of behavior, you'll find, is not tolerated here."  
Alex sat up, and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Then maybe you can take me to a place where it is. Like, say, my home?"  
But Dr. Wilkinson shook her head. "None of that. You'll find a home here soon enough."  
"But I don't want to," Alex protested. Dr. Wilkinson shook her head.  
"I think that's all for today," she said. "I'll help get you down, Second."  
As she picked him up and carried him on her hip, Alex gave her a specialized glare. "It's Alex," he said angrily. "Alex, Alex, Alex! What in that name sounds like Second?"  
But Dr. Wilkinson only smiled as she opened the door with her foot and carried him back to the cafeteria. Alex saw that Percy had disappeared. Seeing the other adults in the room staring at him, he struggled. "I can walk by myself, you know," he said. "I've been doing it for quite some time now."  
The doctor set him down, and he tore out of the room and back to his bunk. Percy was already on his, flipping through a picture book.  
Alex sat next to him. "Is that a comic?" He asked curiously.  
Without looking up, Percy shook his head.  
"Well, then what is it?" Alex persisted, used to being ignored by his uncle and not liking the feeling at all.  
Percy shrugged, still keeping his eyes glued to the page.  
"I'm... trying to read this," he said hardly, like he was in deep concentration.  
Alex glanced at the words. "What do you mean? It looks easy enough."  
But Percy only shook his head. He stayed like that for a moment, concentrating hard on the words on the page, then he slammed the book shut. "That's the thing, Alex," he said, sitting up. "It's supposed to be easy. But I can't read it."  
"Why not?"  
"Because of my dyslexia!" Percy burst out.  
Alex's brow furrowed. "Dyslexia? Is that where you can't read?"  
"I can read some things," Percy said. "Like, smaller words. But not the big ones. I'm not your guy for reading signs on the road or studying for a test. It's just hard for me."  
Alex sat back. "Okay," he said. He climbed back onto his bunk and sat there, thinking.  
That was when he heard the scream.

 **A/N: Here's chapter two! Haha, I know it's fast, but I'm just really excited... so, as you can see, I started a new story about the adventures of Harry, Alex, and Percy in this research lab. I've been working on this fic for a while now, and I am just copying and pasting what I have already written into this website. Please, please review! Is my** **characterization** **ok? Well... enjoy. Bye!**

 **P.S. Guess who's going to be paying them a visit next *sly smile***

 **Ciao.**


	3. Chapter 3

"That's Dr. Vanhallsen!" Percy exclaimed. "Something must be wrong!"

He ran to the door, and jiggled the handle. "It's locked," he said helplessly. "They obviously didn't want us to check it out."

"How would they know that it would happen?" Alex wondered aloud, climbing down from his bunk. "Unless it was planned? Maybe it was one of their experiments."

Percy nodded. "Right, right. Maybe... they knew it would be dangerous, so they locked our door!"

Alex raised an eyebrow at him. "You really believe the best in these people?"

"Of—of course," Percy said. "Don't you think they'll want to keep us safe?"

"We're probably safer at our houses than here any day," Alex said seriously.

Percy bit his lip. "I still want to know why Dr. Vanhallsen screamed."

Alex studied the lock. "Seems standard," he said. "Locks from the outside, I bet they wanted it that way. Maybe if we had a paper clip..."

He turned to Percy. "Have you got a paper clip?"

"I left it in my other jeans," Percy said.

"Do you think there's anything like it in this room somewhere?" Alex asked.

Percy looked all over the room, sweeping his hand over the desk. He felt around on the floor, and was rewarded with a paper clip by the vent.

"Gotcha," he said, grinning. He tossed it to Alex, who slipped it into the lock and rotated it slowly.

There was a click, and the boys dove into the hallway.

Alex got up first. "Where's Dr. Vanhallsen's office?"

"Just down here," Percy said. He showed Alex the door, and they knocked.

There was no answer. Without warning, Alex pushed open the door.

"What are you doing?" Percy hissed at him. "What if someone catches us?"

"It'll be worth it to know why an adult was screaming," Alex pointed out.

They entered the dark office, and Percy flipped the light switch. Fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating the office. Alex crept forward, noticing what looked like a shower curtain in the back of the office.

"Don't touch that, Alex," Percy whispered. "It could be dangerous." But something was drawing Alex to the curtain. He stepped closer. "I'll just take a peek," he promised.

Then he ripped the curtain aside.

A boy was sleeping on a hospital bed, with wires stuck to his face and bare chest. A breathing tube was attached to his mouth. Alex noticed that the boy was incredibly thin, his ribs easy to see under his skin. The boy's jet-black hair hung over his forehead, and there was a dust of freckles on his nose. A screen was next to the bed, with a straight green line going across.

"I know what this is," Percy said quietly, pointing to the screen. "It shows a person's heart rate. When it's beeping and the lines are going up and down, that's a good thing. But if it's quiet and the line is straight, then..." he trailed off, as he and Alex both came to the same conclusion.

The boy in front of them was dead.

Percy ripped his hands through his hair. "We've gotta get out of here," he said hurriedly. "Before they come get us!"

But Alex was still. "That's why Dr. Vanhallsen screamed," he murmured. "She knew this boy was dead."

"But how did he get dead?" Percy said, his brow furrowed.

Alex stared.

Percy cleared his throat. "Erm, sorry, blurting stuff out again. But, um... how?"

"Maybe he was sick," Alex said. "They put in a breathing tube; maybe he'd had trouble breathing."

Percy nodded. Then, he tugged on Alex's arm. "We've got to go now, before Dr. Vanhallsen comes back to us standing by a corpse!"

Alex wouldn't budge. "Percy—"

"Alex." Percy looked at Alex with fear in his eyes.

Alex sighed, then began to tug the curtain back into place.

That was when the boy sat up.

Percy yelped. Alex swore. The boy looked at Percy and Alex, and screamed. His scream was muffled by the breathing tube, but Alex and Percy still shushed him.

Percy looked at the screen, and saw that the green line was leaping up and down, making beeping noises. The boy was looking at him with wild green eyes.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Percy said softly. He took the boy's shoulders and sat him back on his pillows. "You're safe."

Alex shot him a look, but he didn't care. "Can you breathe alright?" He asked.

The boy looked at him uncertainly, then puffed his cheeks out, like he was holding his breath. Then, he exhaled, and nodded at Percy. Percy took away his breathing tube and set it on a table.

The boy felt around on the table, and put something on his face. Percy realized that they were glasses, in the shape of circles. There was a clump of Scotch tape on the bridge, like he'd tried to tape it back together many times.

"Who... who are you?" The boy asked quietly.

"I'm..." Percy didn't know what to say. He'd never talked to a dead person before. "You were dead!"

The boy raised an eyebrow.

Alex rushed in. "That's Percy Jackson," he explained. "I'm Alex Rider."

"What's your name?" Percy asked.

The boy pushed his glasses up farther on his nose, but didn't answer. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his bangs to reveal a cut on his forehead. Percy craned his neck to get a better look.

"Is that a scar? Shaped like lightning?"

The boy clapped his hand to his forehead, hiding the scar. Then, slowly, he brought his hand down. "Um... yeah. I've had it ever since I can remember."

"And how long is that?" Percy asked.

The boy looked from Percy to Alex, and back. "I... don't know. I guess since I was born. Maybe."

"It's a birthmark?" Alex said.

The boy hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I got it from... somewhere."

"Clear as mud, then," Alex said, folding his arms.

"Hey watch it, Alex, the poor kid's been dead for a few minutes," Percy warned.

Alex snorted, and looked away.

"Don't be like that," Percy said, rolling his eyes.

The boy watched them go back and forth, and asked, "How long have you been... here?"

"I've been here for weeks," Percy answered. "But Alex woke up this morning."

The boy looked at him curiously. "He did?"

Percy stopped, realizing what he'd just said. He shook his head. "No—I mean, of course he did—what I meant was—"

"Alex got here this morning," the boy finished.

Alex went over to him. "Kid, could you at least tell us your name? Or how old you are?"

"I turned eight in July," the boy responded. Percy noticed that he kept avoiding giving them his name. Apparently, Alex did too.

"We'll check your file if you don't tell us who you are," he said warningly. The boy looked at him strangely.

"My... file?"

"Yes, your file," Alex repeated. "You've got wax in your ears?"

"Alex," Percy cut in. "He's scared. He doesn't know anything. Just this morning you didn't know that you had a file."

Alex rubbed his eyes, and looked up at the boy. "Percy's right. I'm sorry. The thing is, I'm scared too. But we can't let the adults know."

The boy cocked his head to the side in confusion. "The adults?"

"The doctors and scientists," Percy explained.

"Scientists? Doctors?" The boy whimpered. "Why would they need..." Then, his face went white. "They're experimenting on us."

"Twenty points to Lightning Boy over here," Alex said.

Lightning Boy gave him a small smile. But it vanished when he asked his next question. "So, if they're experimenting on us, what will they do once they're done? When they don't need us anymore?"

Alex shrugged. "They'll throw us back on the streets, I guess. Or if we're lucky, back home."

But Lightning Boy shook his head. "No, no, I can't go back to Privet Drive. It's horrible there."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Horrible? What do you mean?"

Lightning Boy bit his lip. "I... I live with my aunt and uncle. And my cousin, Dudley. I hate it there."

Percy knew the feeling. "My stepdad back home hates me," he told him. "He drinks and smokes and leaves everything in my room. He tries to take my money and send me off to boarding school."

Alex turned to look at him. "Boarding school?"

Percy nodded. "My mom says she wants me to be as normal as possible, but it... it's hard."

Alex put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Percy, you are normal."

Percy laughed out loud. "I'm really not, Alex," he said. "Weird stuff happens to me on field trips, or during classes. One minute, everything's fine, and the next—boom! The drinking fountain starts spewing Coke all over the English teacher."

Alex snorted. "That would be funny."  
Percy went red. "No it wouldn't! Next thing I know, I'm expelled, and I have to go tell my mom that she has to pay for another school to take me."

Alex fell silent.

"I've been to two schools in the two years of my education," Percy said. "And I'm probably going to get expelled from this one because I'm in this place!"

But Alex shook his head. "No, you aren't," he said in a low voice, "because we're breaking out of here."

Percy smiled. He turned to Lightning Boy, and held out a hand. "You trust us?"

Lightning Boy looked from Percy to Alex, and back.

"Yes," he said finally.

"Tell us your name," Alex said.

Lightning Boy bit his lip again, and sighed. "Harry Potter," he said.

"Well, Harry Potter," Percy said, "welcome to the research lab."

They shook hands.

Harry looked glumly around the hospital room. "Guess I'll be here for awhile," he said.

"Hey, think positive," Percy said. "We'll show you around. Even Alex hasn't gone farther than Dr. Wilkinson's office yet."

"Yeah, we'll have fun," Alex promised. "A few doctors won't take over us, now will they?"

Harry gave them a big smile, showing a total of four missing teeth. Percy stared, horrified. Alex thought it was funny.

"Let's get out of here," he said, the smallest grin escaping him.

The two boys helped Harry out of the room, and down the hall to their bedroom.

Dr. Vanhallsen zoomed in on the security camera footage. "Did you see that?" She asked. "They're all chums now, faster than you can say carbon monoxide."

"That's the thing about second graders, Dorrine," Dr. Crandall said, washing his hands. "They make friends with everyone they meet. It's quite comical, really. The results here are off the charts."

"Do you think we made a mistake, bringing the Potter boy here?" Dr. Wilkinson asked.

Dr. Crandall shook his head. "Absolutely not. He's got to be able to mingle with the other two boys so we can run some more tests. It's crucial to the examination."  
"How was Rider's, anyway?" Dr. Vanhallsen asked. "The check-up you had with him after lunch?"

Dr. Wilkinson rolled her eyes. "Exactly how I expected," she answered. "We'll have to teach him a little lesson tomorrow—to, as you Americans say, show him who's boss. He needs a kick in the head every so often."

"Jackson wasn't much different," Dr. Crandall noted. "When I first met him in my office, he tried not to show any emotion. Naturally, he failed, but it was quite interesting to see how much he accomplished."

"You'll be meeting with little Alex weekly, then?" Dr. Vanhallsen asked.

Dr. Wilkinson nodded. "Daily, if he's as much as a loose cannon as I think he is. Hopefully we'll be able to teach him obedience by the end of the month."

The doctors laughed, the humorless sound filling the office. Dr. Vanhallsen looked in the corner, to where a man was staring out the window.

"Dr. Oliver, what in Heaven's name are you staring at?"

Dr. Oliver looked back at her, and smiled. "Oh nothing, Dorrine. I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Dr. Vanhallsen asked. "You can't possibly be depressed, your subject has just arrived. Shouldn't be too hard to break, by the look of him."

Dr. Oliver's lip twitched into a broader smile. "That remains to be seen."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry quickly got used to Alex and Percy's company. In fact, he even got to enjoy it. He'd never had a friend before, so it was all new to him. The closest thing he'd ever gotten to a friend was his cousin Dudley, but Dudley had never held the door for him to the cafeteria, and Dudley hadn't ever asked if he was alright when he was being more quiet than usual. It was the little things about Alex and Percy that Harry noticed and appreciated. That day, Alex and Percy became closer to family than the Dursleys had ever been.  
There were some cons among the pros, though. As he passed all the adults in the halls, they all greeted him with a nod of their head and a curt regarding of, "Third." Percy quickly explained that this was the adults' pet name for him, as he was the third kid to show up at the lab. All Harry had to do was tell him his real name every time it happened, but his nature was to be quiet and shy, so it didn't come easily for him. Alex, however, took the opportunity to shout at the adults whenever he could.  
"It's Alex, you morons! A-L-E-X, you hear? My name is Alex!"  
Harry laughed every time Alex did this, which only made the other boy want to do it more. Percy had earned the somewhat respect of the adults weeks before, so they called him by his real name. But he didn't hesitate to whisper in Alex's ear every time he was called Second, "You don't even bother anymore..."  
The next morning, there was a knock on the door of the boys' bedroom.  
"Breakfast!" Dr. Carson cried in a sing-song voice.  
Harry sat up in bed, and put on his glasses. He half-expected to have woken up in his cupboard under the stairs, and that the lab—with Alex and Percy in it—had all been a dream. But Dr. Carson coming in with a tray of pancakes and bacon and eggs extinguished that thought.  
Percy clambered out of bed. "Food!"  
Alex was still asleep, his hand clenching his pillow so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Harry cast a confused glance as Percy, who had shoveled eggs into his mouth as soon as Dr. Carson had left.  
"Oh," Percy said with his mouth full. He swallowed, and continued, "I suppose it's the jitters of sleeping in a different place for the first time."  
"Reckon we should... wake him?" Harry asked quietly.  
"'Course," Percy said, taking another forkful of eggs. "We'll do it before the breakfast runs out."  
At the mention of breakfast, Harry looked down at the tray of food before him. He thought for sure he was dreaming. He was allowed to eat that? Was this some sort of trick?  
Percy noticed his hesitation. "You don't expect me to eat this all, do you?" He asked. "Come on, Harry, have you ever had proper food before?"  
Harry shook his head. "Not much of the proper kind, no," he replied.  
"Well, usually, when us Americans have food put out in front of us, we don't stare at it like it's from another planet. We pick up our utensil," Percy said, demonstrating so with his fork, "scoop some of the food onto said utensil," he plowed his fork into the eggs, "bring it up to our mouths, and shove it in." Percy did so, and said with a mouthful, "Then we chew, and swallow." He gulped. "Easy, right? You try."  
Harry looked at him haughtily, wanting to say that he'd eaten before, but decided to not waste his words and eat as much as he could.  
"There we go!" Percy exclaimed as Harry reached for a second piece of bacon. "Bravo, I must say, such a splendid performance!"  
Harry glared at him, but proceeded to eat his bacon.  
Ten minutes later, Alex woke up. "What time is it?" He asked groggily.  
"I dunno," said Percy. "But would you get down here and eat, your pancakes are getting cold."  
Alex sat up. "Pancakes?"  
He climbed down from his bunk and ate so fast that Harry could barely keep up with him. When he finally sat back, he glared at the two of them. "Bloody 'ell, you two, this stuff is stone cold."  
"Well you could've woken up sooner," Percy pointed out.  
Alex looked ready to lunge at him.  
"Besides," Percy said, "I would've eaten it all, if they'd been blue."  
Alex swallowed. "You would've eaten the lot if they were _blue?_ Did I hear that right?"  
Percy nodded. "My mom always makes blue food. Blue pancakes, blue waffles, and she always brings home blue jelly beans for me. It's our little joke—food can be blue. Percy can survive school. Those little miracles in life."  
Alex laughed. "Blue food. Sure. Why not?" Alex turned to Harry. "He keeps getting weirder by the hour eh, Lightning Boy?"  
Harry smiled at that.  
Alex looked at Percy. "So, what's the plan for today?" He asked. "Are we gonna hit the library before lessons, or—?"  
"Or will Second come meet me in my office at 10:30?" came a voice from the doorway.  
Alex groaned. "Not you again," he said.  
The woman in the doorway smiled thinly. "It's me again," she said, a touch of amusement in her voice. "And I have the intention to teach you some respect, Second."  
"But I don't wanna," Alex protested. "It's a free country!"  
The woman came over to crouch next to him, and caressed the side of his face with her hand. "I know," she said, "but you'll have to learn to cooperate with me to gain your freedom."  
Alex noticeably shuddered at her touch, his glare wavering for a split second. But it was all the woman needed to smile again.  
"I will see you at 10:30, Second," she said, crossing to the door and gently closing it behind her.  
"Who was that?" Harry asked as soon as the door closed.  
"Dr. Wilkinson," Percy answered, watching Alex intently. "You okay, Alex?"  
The boy was touching the place where Dr. Wilkinson had stroked his face, an empty look in his eyes. "Jack," he said, the single word coming out choked and broken. "Jack... used to do that to me every time I needed to calm down. And I always did. She was the only person that could make me calm like that. And that—that scientist won't replace her. Ever."  
"But Alex," Percy said, treading lightly, "you still have to go to her office at 10:30."  
Alex shook his head. "I can't," he said. "The last time, she promised that she would tell me exactly where I was. And she didn't tell me anything. There is no way something good is going to come out of this visit. So what's the point in even going?"  
"Alex," Harry said softly, "I really don't think you have a choice. Think of all the terrible things Dr. Wilkinson could do to you. She could hurt Jack. She could hurt you. But if you go to her office today, you'll at least know what she's capable of. And maybe you could prepare for it, for the next time."  
Alex looked at him, and Harry saw a single tear run down his face. Alex quickly swiped it away, clearly embarrassed that it had even been there. But Harry reached out to touch his arm.  
"And you'll come back to us, Alex," Harry told him. "Right after that meeting, promise us you'll come running back to us and tell us every detail. Because we'll be here. Okay?"  
Alex hesitated, then nodded.  
When Alex stood up, Percy scooted over to Harry. "You're a miracle worker," he whispered. "When Alex is mad, he could end up throwing something. But you made him okay again. It was like magic."  
Harry shrugged. "I just told him whatever I tell myself whenever something bad happens to me. There's always a safe place to come back to."

Alex felt just like the people in horror movies. Stepping into the scene of the crime, where it's dark and cold and creepy, and just waiting for a monster to pop out of the shadows to snatch you up and suffocate you in the chilly empty air.  
Alex shivered. That visual definitely wasn't helping his situation. He approached Dr. Wilkinson's door, and raised his fist to knock. But there was no answer. Alex looked at a clock up ahead. It was 10:30 on the dot. Where was she? Slowly, Alex pushed open the door and stepped inside.  
The lights were off. The equipment made strange shapes in the darkness. Alex called out for the doctor, but there was no answer. Alex reached for the light switch on the wall, groping in the blackness. But was it there? Was it activated by sensors? Cautiously, Alex waved his arms around. But nothing happened.  
"Dr... Dr. Wilkinson?" Alex called again.  
Then, the lights were turned on. He felt a rough material being wrapped around him, working from his feet up to his neck. Alex's breath caught in his throat—what was happening?  
Rough hands grabbed at him, but he couldn't make a move to fight against them.  
"Be careful, he's a struggler," said a voice overhead. Alex knew it. It was Dr. Wilkinson's. Alex tried to cry out, but a thick piece of duct tape was stretched across his mouth. He squirmed, but the material—was it rope?—didn't budge. Alex was scared. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready! Dr. Wilkinson had to make it stop, she had to.  
Carefully, he was laid onto the table. Alex tried to squirm again, but hands held him in place. Alex saw Dr. Wilkinson's face as she looked down at the frightened little boy.  
"I'm not going to hurt you," she said softly. "You're still safe. All we're doing is taking precautions. I promise."  
Precautions? Alex didn't know what she meant. Did she think he was dangerous? Was he dangerous? He didn't know what to think anymore.  
"Now, I'm going to take the duct tape off," the doctor continued in her soft tone. "I'm asking you to not make a sound. Or there will be consequences."  
As best as he could, Alex nodded. Dr. Wilkinson peeled the tape off of his mouth, and Alex didn't say anything.  
"That's better," Dr. Wilkinson said, smiling. "We'll teach you things yet, won't we? Now I'm going to secure your arms to the table. It won't hurt, I'm just making sure you won't fall off, okay?"  
"Okay," Alex said, his voice hoarse.  
Dr. Wilkinson spread his arms out onto the table, and kept them stationary with strips of hard, thick cloth. Alex's arms felt numb. He was more scared than ever.  
"You'll see that your legs are also secured, so you can't fall off," the doctor told him. "And I ask you to please keep still."  
She went away for a moment, and Alex craned his neck to see that she was wheeling over a cart with metal instruments on it. Alex gulped as he saw scalpels and knifes and other sharp objects. They glinted in the light.  
Dr. Wilkinson took a pair of gloves from her white coat pocket, and slipped them on. Slowly, she ran her hands along the instruments with loving care. But she didn't select any of them. Instead, she picked up a cotton swab and dipped into a container of liquid. She brought out the swab and placed it gingerly on one of Alex's fingers.  
It stung as the liquid met with the a on Alex's finger. Alex bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Dr. Wilkinson pushed harder on the swab, watching him closely.  
"Does it hurt?" She asked him.  
"No," Alex lied as best as he could.  
But Dr. Wilkinson didn't believe him. "Are you sure?"  
"Yes," Alex said, as she pushed down harder on the swab.  
"Completely sure?"  
"Yes," Alex said again. Dr. Wilkinson held the swab to his cut for a moment longer, then took it off. She sealed the swab into a plastic bag.  
"I would've thought that you would take me seriously, Second," Dr. Wilkinson said somberly. "I gave you three chances. But you give me no choice."  
The doctor took what looked like a wooden paddle from a drawer in her desk. She approached Alex, and held the paddle to each side of his face. Then, without warning, she slapped him with it.  
Alex's cheek stung. He felt his eyes begin to water. Dr. Wilkinson turned his face over and slapped the other side. Still, Alex made no sound as his cheek smarted.  
Dr. Wilkinson put the paddle away. "I didn't want it to come to this," she said. "You're so capable of doing the right thing, Second. Let's try again."  
She took out a syringe.  
"You—you said you wouldn't hurt me," Alex choked out.  
Dr. Wilkinson loaded the syringe from another container. "I know," she said, the ever-present smile on her face. "But this is just a prick."  
Alex squeezed his eyes shut as she pushed the syringe into his skin. He felt a flood of nausea hit him almost at once, and looked down to the see that the syringe was still in his arm. Dr. Wilkinson taped it in place.  
"What are you—?"  
But Dr. Wilkinson put a finger to her lips to silence him. "It'll hold for just a few minutes," she told him. "By then, we'll have a little work done."  
Alex felt sick. He eyed the syringe with a venom of his own, wishing that his glare would make it melt away. He was filled with hatred for the doctor by every passing second, and she gave him another patronizing smile.  
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, Second," Dr. Wilkinson said, slowly untying his body so only his ankles and arms were secured to the table. Then, she folded her hands and looked down at him. "What school do you go to?"  
Alex was confused. What kind of question was that? "Um, primary," he answered.  
Dr. Wilkinson shook her head. "No no no, that's not what I asked." She moved to her computer. "Do you want me to bump up the serum—?"  
"No!" Alex shouted. His hands were shaking.  
Dr. Wilkinson looked back at him. "No? Well, it doesn't really look like you don't want me to. In fact, you're practically begging—"  
"Brookland!" Alex blurted. "Brookland primary, okay?"  
The doctor nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "There's an answer. The next step is to say it politely. Repeat after me: 'I go to Brookland School, Dr. Wilkinson.'"  
Alex glared at her, but when she moved again towards her computer, he grumbled, "I go to Brookland School, Dr. Wilkinson."  
Dr. Wilkinson smiled. "Good, good, we're making progress. Here's another question: Where is Ian Rider right now?"  
Alex wracked his brain. Where was he again? "Er, on a work trip."  
Dr. Wilkinson tsked. "Dear me, Second, do we really need to go through this again?" She moved to her computer, and, before Alex could stop her, punched in a few numbers. Alex clenched his teeth as his nausea doubled.  
"Hong Kong!" He yelled. "He said he was going to Hong Kong, but that's all I know, I swear!"  
Dr. Wilkinson nodded. "Hong Kong. Interesting. Can you go through that answer one more time for me, but in the way that we practiced?"  
Alex glared daggers at her. "He's in Hong Kong, Dr. Wilkinson."  
Dr. Wilkinson's smile got wider. "Very good, that was spectacular. Now, I have one more question for you. It's about your young friend Third."  
Third? Alex wondered. Why would she want to know about Harry?  
"How did he get his lightning scar?"  
Alex gaped at her. "I—I don't know," he said. He really didn't. He didn't even think Harry knew.  
Dr. Wilkinson raised an eyebrow. "You really don't?" She asked.  
Alex shook his head.  
"Let's swap that for a different question, then," the doctor said, unfazed. "Your housekeeper, Jack Starbright. Does she care for you?"  
The question hit Alex like a slap in the face. "What... what do you mean?"  
"Jack," Dr. Wilkinson said slowly. "Does she really love you?"  
All thoughts of tolerating the doctor's games, or being scared of the syringe, flew out of Alex's brain. She'd already insulted Jack once. He wasn't going to stand for it a second time.  
"Of course she does!" He exploded. "What are you talking about? Of course, you don't know what it's like to be loved, because no one has ever loved you! Because no matter how much of a doctor you may think you are, you'll always be so—so sick!"  
"That's enough, Second," Dr. Wilkinson said quietly. She punched in more numbers into her computer, and the serum in Alex's system tripled, then quadrupled as Dr. Wilkinson put in more numbers.  
Alex started shrieking. He screamed so loud his throat was sore.  
"Stop! Make it stop! Please! Noooooooo!"  
Then it was gone. Dr. Wilkinson slid the needle from Alex's skin, and put it in yet another plastic bag. "I think that's enough for today, Second."  
But Alex stared, empty, at the wall, even after Dr. Wilkinson released his bonds.  
Dr. Wilkinson went over to him and whispered in his ear. "If you don't go now, I'll have to carry you again, Second."  
Stomach roiling, eyes haunted, Alex looked up at her. "My name is Alex," he said. Then, he dashed back to his bedroom...  
...and promptly crashed to the floor.  
Harry and Percy rushed to his side. Alex could barely focus on them. Distantly, like coming from the end of a tunnel, he heard their voices.  
"Alex! Are you all right?"  
"Speak to me, dude!"  
"Come on, we need you!"  
"Alex!"  
Alex rubbed his eyes, and gingerly sat up. "I..." he managed, but he started coughing.  
Harry was watching him intently. "What did that woman do to you, Alex?"  
Alex coughed again. "She—kept asking me questions. She tortured me and put a serum in my blood. It made me feel sick. I feel like I'm gonna hurl."  
"Back it up!" Percy called. "I don't need you spewing all over me."  
Alex coughed some more, then sneezed.  
"We need to get him to a hospital," Harry said quietly.  
Percy looked at him like he was insane. "Lightning Boy, in case you haven't noticed, this is the hospital. We can't take Alex anywhere if Dr. Wilkinson treated him this way."  
Harry grabbed Alex's arm. "Come on," he whispered. "Alex please, please get better. I need you to get better. Please."  
Alex looked into the boy's hopeful green eyes. He gave him a small smile. "Well, since you said please," he said weakly. He coughed once more. Harry sat back, disappointed.  
All of a sudden, the pain cleared. Alex stopped coughing. "Guys," he said, his voice clearer. "Guys!"  
Both boys looked at him, and Alex stood up. "I—I'm not sick anymore!"  
"But... how?" Percy asked.  
Harry was looking at his hands. "It was me," he whispered.  
"You?" Alex repeated. "What do you mean, it was you?"  
"Weird stuff happens to me," Harry said quietly. "When I'm at school, at Privet Drive... whenever I'm around, something strange happens."  
"Like what?" Percy said.  
Harry shrugged. "I once was—erm—getting chased, and I fell. I got super scared, and... maybe it was the adrenaline, but—I started to run really fast. And a different time, I was trying to hide somewhere, and I—uh—ended up on top of the roof."  
"Wicked," Alex said.  
"My aunt says... some people a while ago were like me. But those people were bad. So I don't wanna be like those people." Harry looked down at the floor.  
Percy put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not a bad person, Harry," he said. "You're just... special."  
Harry smiled at that.  
Then, the door opened. A man walked in.  
"Percy!" He exclaimed. "How are you?"  
Percy smiled at the man in the doorway. "Hi, Dr. Crandall."  
Alex didn't like the look of Dr. Crandall at all. His lab coat was crisply starched, a gleaming white that looked unreal; his hair was closely cut, his face clean-shaven. He was the kind of man who knew his business and knew it well.  
Dr. Crandall put his hands on Percy's shoulders and said, "I heard one of your little buddies got himself a hard appointment today."  
Percy looked up at him. "What, you mean Alex? What was the deal with that, anyway? He didn't do anything wrong! Unless I missed something. But I didn't. So he shouldn't have gotten punished!"  
Dr. Crandall shook his head. "I'm afraid that's between Second and Dr. Wilkinson." He turned to Alex. "Isn't that right, Second?"  
Alex tilted his chin up to look right at the man. "Yes, Dr. Crandall."  
Dr. Crandall was visibly impressed. "And I'm sure she had fun with you."  
As he turned to leave, Alex called, "And by the way, Dr. Crandall—" The man looked back at him "—the name is Alex."  
Dr. Crandall left.  
Percy turned back to Alex. "Tell us every detail of what happened. What questions did she ask? How'd she torture you? What did you tell her?"  
By the time Alex was done explaining his ordeal, Percy's eyes were wide and Harry's face had gone pale.  
"Why... why did she ask about me?" Harry said softly.  
Alex shrugged. "I dunno." He brought his arms around his knees and hugged them close to his face. "I just... I don't want to go to her office again. And if she makes me, I'll try and fight her off. I'm not stepping into that place again for as long as I live."  
Percy looked at the clock. "It's lunch time," he said. "What could possibly go wrong?"  
Alex stood up. "You take that back because we all know something terrible is going to happen at lunch."  
Percy grinned. "Well that's what makes it interesting!"

 **Wow! I'm so excited for the attention this story's getting. Thanks sooooo much. As you can see, I've been working on this little masterpiece of mine for awhile... I've got most of the chapters written out already, so there's that. Yay. Fun. Please, please tell me if I need to get the** **characterization** **right or if I need to fix anything at all (plot wise, personality wise, etc.). And, uh, thanks again!**


	5. Chapter 5

Percy led Alex and Harry into their bedroom at seven thirty that night.

"I still don't get it," Alex complained, getting into his pajamas, "how do they expect eight-year-olds to go to sleep at seven thirty?"

"Alex, you're seven," Harry pointed out.

Alex waved a hand. "Whatever."

"The point our young friend is trying to make," Percy said, buttoning his shirt, "is that it's way too early to go to bed."

"Yeah," Alex said, padding into the bathroom. "It should at least be eight o'clock!"

"Like a half hour makes a difference!" Percy called after him.

Alex came back out with a toothbrush in his mouth. "It does!" He said. He tossed a toothbrush to Harry. "That one's yours, Lightning Boy."

"Cheers," Harry said, getting up. He shrugged on a flannel shirt and fiddled with the buttons. Then he followed Alex into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Five minutes later, Percy called out that he was turning off the lights. Alex and Harry clambered into bed and Alex bumped his head on the ceiling. He swore loudly.

"ALEX!"

"Sorry," Alex whispered.

Percy turned the lights off. There was silence for a few moments.

Then —

Thump. Thump.

"Alex?" Percy whispered into the dark.

"Yeah?" Alex's voice answered back.

"Are... you okay?"

"What makes you think I'm not?"

Percy paused. "You're... moving a lot."

"Sue me."

"Alex..."

Alex sighed. "It's nothing! Dr. Wilkinson just turned off the lights before she tied me up and strapped me to the table. That's all."

There was silence for a moment.

"Do you want me to turn the lights on—?"

"No!"

Percy settled back on his pillows and stared at the bunk above him. He didn't think Alex had recovered enough from his appointment with Dr. Wilkinson, even after the rest of the day. A few minutes ago was proof.

So, he made a plan. It was simple, but effective. And as he closed his eyes, he really hoped it would work.

The next morning, at seven o'clock, Percy quietly got out of bed and scribbled a note. He went over to Harry's small sleeping figure and set the

note next to his hand. Harry had a frown on his face, and Percy felt bad for the kid. Was he having a nightmare? He ruffled the kid's hair and

went to get dressed.

A few minutes later, Harry woke up. He reached for his glasses and crammed them on, and felt a piece of paper by his hand. He thought it must

be in Percy's handwriting.

 _Lightning Boy—_

 _Don't wake up Al yet. Needs time to recover from Dr. W yesterday. Meet me at breakfast._

 _Percy_

Harry looked up at Alex's bunk, where the boy was still sleeping soundly. Quietly, he got dressed and made his way to the cafeteria. He found

Percy at an empty table, and slid next to him.

"I'm hoping today's gonna be normal," Percy said abruptly.

Harry gave him a confused look.

"Yesterday, Dr. Carson gave us breakfast in our room," Percy explained. "She never does that. Sure enough, Alex gets himself sick from an

appointment with Dr. Wilkinson. This morning, there was no breakfast in bed. Hopefully there'll be no doctor's appointments."

Harry shrugged.

"You're right," Percy said bitterly. "That's too much to hope for."

Twenty minutes later, Alex came down to the cafeteria.

"What happened?" He asked, sliding to a spot in front of Percy. "You guys were both gone when I woke up. Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

Percy cleared his throat. "We—" he started again after receiving a glare from Harry "—I thought that it would be best if you got to sleep in later,

after Dr. Wilkinson. The serum could still be in your system."

"But Harry healed me yesterday," Alex said.

"We don't know what happened yesterday," Percy told him. "So I thought it would've been better to be safe than sorry."

Alex folded his arms and determinedly didn't look into Percy's eyes. "Thank you," he mumbled.

Percy put a hand to his ear, smiling innocently. "What was that, Alex? I couldn't quite hear."

"Thank you," Alex said, a little louder.

Percy shook his head, and looked at Harry. "Did you hear that?" Harry shook his head.

"Thank you!" Alex yelled.

The entire cafeteria turned silent.

Alex looked over his shoulder. "There's Dr. Wilkinson," he whispered as the buzz of the cafeteria returned. "In three seconds, we turn around,

smile, and wave. Okay?"

Percy interjected, "Wait, Alex—"

"One," Alex said, "two. Three!"

The three boys turned around to look at the doctor, smiled, and waved. Dr. Wilkinson waved back.

Alex promptly pushed Percy's head into his oatmeal.

Dr. Wilkinson put her hand over her mouth in surprise. Percy came up with oatmeal coming out of his nose.

Harry started giggling.

Percy shrugged. "I should've seen that coming."

Alex shot a look at Harry, who was stifling snickers. "You want a face-full of oatmeal too, Lightning Boy?"

Percy looked past Alex to the table of doctors and scientists, who seemed to all be talking to Dr. Wilkinson. Percy caught some parts of their

conversation.

"Must be such a handful—"

"Haven't you taught him anything?"

"Should've been paired with someone a little more tame, if you know what I mean—"

Percy grinned at that one. Poor Dr. Wilkinson had gotten paired with Alex. And she was in for something not quite as "tame" as she thought it

would be.

Percy then saw Dr. Wilkinson's reaction. "Hey, Alex," he said, tapping him on the shoulder, "something tells me you're gonna have another

appointment today."

Alex groaned as Dr. Wilkinson came over to her table. "Are you all right, Percy?" She asked, frowning at him.

Percy nodded, wiping his face with a paper towel. "Oh I'm fine, Dr. Wilkinson," he said hurriedly. "Alex didn't hurt me—it's okay—"

But Dr. Wilkinson shook her head. "No, it's not," she said. She went over to Alex and sat next to him.

Alex looked determinedly into her eyes.

"Second," Dr. Wilkinson said slowly, "was that respectful to Percy?"

Alex shrugged, still not looking away from her. "I suppose not."

Dr. Wilkinson nodded. "And if it wasn't respectful, it was wrong. Can you apologize to him for me?"

Alex cocked his head to the side. "I don't want to."

Percy looked at Harry, who was watching with his eyes wide. Percy was afraid for Alex. What was Dr. Wilkinson going to do to him? He waited

with bated breath for the dangerous words to come out of her mouth.

But they didn't. Not yet. Instead, the doctor held the side of Alex's face, and stroked his blonde locks.

"Second," she said patiently, "what did we talk about yesterday?"

Alex looked down. "Being polite," he mumbled.

Dr. Wilkinson nodded. "Mmm-hmm. And what you did wasn't very polite, was it?"

Alex clenched his teeth. "No."

The doctor smiled. "That's right. Now can you do the polite thing and apologize to Percy?"

Alex didn't answer, still staring at the floor. Dr. Wilkinson gently stroked his hair and said, "I'll ask you this one more time, Second."

Alex sighed, and looked at Percy. "I'm sorry."

Dr. Wilkinson gave him a look.

Alex sighed again. "For sticking your face in the oatmeal."

Percy stammered, "I—uh—I forgive you, Alex."

Dr. Wilkinson nodded. "Very good," she said. Then, she got up to leave.

"Arrrrrgggghhhh," Alex moaned as he stretched himself on the bench. "Do you see what I'm dealing with here? She sounds like my bloody

psychiatrist!"

Percy shook his head. "I can't believe you got out of that one without getting an extra appointment," he said in wonderment. "Dr. Crandall loves

doing that to me. 'Reward the good, punish the bad, Percy,' he says. And then he tells me to come to his office the next day. It's warnings like

those you have to look out for."

"I heard way too many warnings in that conversation to last me a month or two," Alex said.

Percy turned to Harry, who was absentmindedly poking at his eggs with a fork. "Hey, Lightning Boy," he said. "If I've got Dr. Crandall, and Alex

has Dr. Wilkinson, who are you gonna have?"

Harry looked at him, confused.

"I see it," Alex said. He pointed around the cafeteria. "You're gonna be meeting with one of these adults soon enough, Harry. Let's just hope

they're not a complete arse like Dr. Wilkinson."

Percy shushed him. "Quiet, she might've heard you!"

Alex whipped his head around to where she was sitting, and saw that she hadn't made any move to come over again.

He sat back. "Nope," he said, relieved.

Percy looked at all the adults in the room. "Let's see... there aren't many good ones, far as I know. Dr. Vanhallsen's a little creepy, and Dr. Sanchez

is boring. Dr. Benson talks real fast, and Dr. Alan talks too slow." He turned back to Harry. "You really can't win with this one."

Harry put his chin in his hand and sighed.

Alex playfully punched him on the arm. "Eh, chin up. We'll find you a good doctor yet."

After breakfast, the three boys made their way to the classroom hallway, where each of them would have individual lessons.

Percy watched as Alex and Harry pushed the doors open to their classrooms and walked inside. He sighed. There was so much to worry about—

the adults, the experiments and examinations, their freedom—and yet he had two people to go through it with. Alex was loud and rebellious and

Harry was quiet and shy, but Percy figured that they would get home sooner than later. One of these days Lady Luck had to smile upon them.

Percy was counting on it.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry stared at the blackboard. Today was not a maths day. He didn't like maths. What was the point of putting numbers together to find the answer when you could use words? In the middle of the lesson, Harry started writing things in his notebook.

 _M_

 _A_

 _T_

 _H_

 _S_

Now for the hard part. Harry had read all about these poems—they were called acrostics. He had to think of a word to do with maths that began

with each letter of the actual word.

Mental

Abuse

That started to look good. He kept going.

To

Humans

Harry was still figuring out the word for S when his teacher, Dr. Sanchez, smacked the ruler on the chalkboard.

"Third!"

Harry's head snapped up. "Y-yes, Dr. Sanchez?" He answered shyly.

"Are you listening?" The scientist said, pointing to the board with the ruler. There were numbers written, some of them crossed out, replaced

with new ones on top.

Harry gulped. He was sure he'd woken up on planet Earth this morning... so what was this?

"Umm..."

"Let me see your notebook," Dr. Sanchez said, storming over to his desk and snatching it up. He read it over, and then slammed it back down

again.

"You need to work on your penmanship, young man," he told him. "Dr. Alan doesn't care for messy handwriting."

Harry was confused. Dr. Alan was the woman who taught him literacy. Why wasn't he mad?

Like he could read his mind, Dr. Sanchez said, "Oh don't worry, I'm still mad at you. Pay more attention."

Harry put his notebook away and got ready for a long lesson.

His next lesson was with Dr. Alan, whom he had met with Dr. Sanchez yesterday.

"Dr. Sanchez told me you were working on something during maths," she said. "Can I see it?"

Harry hesitantly handed her his notebook. She flipped it open to his poem.

She smiled. "Very nice," she said. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's an acrostic poem, Dr. Alan," Harry said.

Dr. Alan nodded. "Yes, it is. Most second graders don't know that, Third."

Harry shrugged. "Most second graders don't know what Dr. Sanchez's 'borrowing' is, and yet he still wants to teach me."

Dr. Alan tapped her chin. "Actually, borrowing is part of the standard second grade teaching curriculum. Your point?"

"That it's hard," Harry said. Why couldn't these adults get context clues?

Dr. Alan chuckled. "Let's get to work on adverbs."

The scientist was deep into the lesson when there was a knock at the door. A man came in, with short hair and a good-natured face.

"Dr. Alan?" He said. "Could I borrow our friend Third for a moment?"

"Of course," Dr. Alan answered. She nodded at Harry, who stood up and followed the man into the hall.

The man faced Harry with a proud smile. "Look at you," he said fondly. "I can't believe you're as they say you are."

Harry didn't quite know what to think of that. He settled with giving the man a raised eyebrow.

The man laughed. "I should introduce myself," he said. He held out a hand. "Dr. Oliver, scientist. My office is just down the hall."

Harry cringed away from the man.

Dr. Oliver shook his head. "Don't be like that, Third. Give me a smile. Talk to me."

"I'd rather not," Harry said, then covered his mouth.

Dr. Oliver stopped, and tilted his head to the side. "Curious," he whispered. "Third," he said, "say I have two apples. My dear friend Dr. Alan

takes away one. How many apples would she have?"

Harry ran his tongue over his front teeth before he answered. "Well, Dr. Oliver, I expect Dr. Alan would have the one apple she took from you.

But, seeing as she's such a 'dear friend' to you as you have mentioned, I would've thought that she wouldn't take the apple from you in the first

place."

Dr. Oliver frowned, which slowly turned into a smile, which slowly turned into a hearty laugh. "You'll be fun to play with, Third, if I might say.

But, I think it really depends on the type of apple dearest Dr. Alan took away from me. She's allergic to Granny Smith, you see, and if she took

one from me and ate it, she would likely die, and I would be shipped off to prison having been accused of being an assassin."

Harry frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

The scientist looked at him thoughtfully. "Why shouldn't an innocent man tell a little boy the dangers of apples in a research lab hallway?"

Harry glared at him, his green eyes blazing into Dr. Oliver's brown. "I think you should rot in that prison, Dr. Oliver."

He pushed open the door to get his books, and stalked away.

"Wow, Lightning Boy you got him good!" Alex crowed that night.

Harry shrugged.

"Harry don't be modest, it was amazing!" Percy exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was bloody brilliant!" Alex said.

Harry climbed into bed and ran a hand through his hair. He got himself settled on his pillows, and finally turned to look at his two friends.

"Ah yeah, you feel good about it don't you?" Alex asked him. "Feel right proud about it?"

Harry nodded.

"Was it fun?" Percy questioned. "What was the look on his face like?"

Harry mimicked Dr. Oliver's blank look of being outsmarted.

"Tell us, Harry," Alex said. "Why do you think he kept saying you were 'curious?'"  
Harry ran his tongue over his front teeth subconsciously. "Reckon it was my teeth," he said quietly. "Didn't like how four of them were missing."

Percy climbed into bed. "Well, you've got to expect that from these scientists," he said matter-of-factly. "They don't like things not going precisely

right in their little worlds."

"And a kid with four lost teeth—" Harry began softly.

"—is exactly what would piss them off," Alex finished.

Percy studied Harry's face. "You didn't actually lose those teeth, Harry? Were they..."  
"Knocked out?" Alex said, uncharacteristically careful.

Harry took awhile to answer. "My... cousin," he said finally. "His name is Dudley. He's the same age as me, except a month or so older. He

doesn't let me forget that, mind you. He's got a group of these neighborhood kids—his cronies—who's favorite game is to have me hide. Then,

when they find me, they get to beat me up. First one to find me gets the first punch."

Alex was speechless. Percy said, "That's terrible!"

Harry nodded. "I lost the first tooth from a day at school. Got into a fight with Dudley's gang. The second one was from Privet Drive, at the

playground. The third happened while I was asleep. And the fourth, the most recent..." he poked his tongue where the empty gap was. "I got hit

with a brick."

"Bricks hurt," Percy said knowledgeably.

"When I meet them, I'll kick their arses," Alex promised.

"No, Alex," Harry pleaded. "It'll only bring me more trouble."

Alex shrank back. "But you've gotta learn how to stand up for yourself, Harry," he said.

"I can't do anything at Privet Drive," Harry told him.

"Then we'll practice here," Percy said. "I know a certain Dr. Oliver who needs to get himself set straight."

Harry smiled.

"And we don't care about your four missing teeth," Percy said. "Or your scar. We like you for you, Harry."

Harry propped himself up on his elbow. "Thanks, Percy."

"Get some sleep, my tiny grasshopper," Alex said, patting him on the head. "You have much to learn tomorrow."

Harry shot him a look. "I bet you Dr. Wilkinson will pat you on the head tomorrow. You're her little dog, Alex."

Alex whipped around to face him, and shook his head. "Be quiet, Lightning Boy."

"Woof," Harry said softly as Alex shut off the lights. Before he knew what was happening, Alex was tickling him like a madman.

"Woof!" Harry squealed through his sobs of laughter.

 _"_ _Lightning Boy!"_

Percy snickered.

Dr. Oliver was in for a treat tomorrow.

 **Here's another one! Thanks for staying with me. I'll try and update more often. Everything good? This one's a little more Harry-centered, but it'll be a bit more diverse next chapter. Hope you liked it!**


	7. Chapter 7

Harry woke up to a pillow hitting his face. He jerked up, but said nothing. He was supposed to do nothing, to say nothing. Instead, he focused on rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Then, he saw the familiar blonde head of Alex and the short figure of Percy, and he remembered that he wasn't in Privet Drive anymore. He watched as Alex and Percy threw pillows at each other, making loud thumps as it hit their faces. Alex had surprisingly good aim, hitting Percy square in the nose.

Percy's hand leapt to his nose and he cried out. "Alex!"

Alex only grinned. "No mercy!" He yelled, chucking another pillow at him.

Percy dived behind Harry's bed. Harry took his pillow, and whacked him with it.

Percy fell over, surprised.

Alex laughed. "Good one, Harry!"

Harry retrieved his pillow from the floor and threw it at Alex. Alex dodged it, but he fell down onto the floor at the sound of the door opening.

Harry followed suit, collapsing on his bed and burying his face in the covers.

Dr. Crandall appeared. "What the devil is happening here?"

Percy shot up from the floor. "Alex did it!"

Then Dr. Wilkinson was there, a worried look on her face. "What did he do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Alex protested.

"Who threw the last pillow?" Dr. Crandall asked accusingly.

Harry's eyes went wide as Percy and Alex both pointed at him, speechless.

Dr. Crandall raised an eyebrow. "I think Dr. Oliver would like to see you this afternoon, Third."

Alex and Percy burst into arguments, Alex saying that he did start it, Percy saying that he was the one who hit Harry with his pillow, but the two

adults weren't having it.

"Get dressed, all three of you," Dr. Wilkinson ordered. "And I'll see Second this afternoon as well."

Alex paled, but quickly hid it as the doctor gave him a disappointed look. Dr. Crandall paused at the door. "Percy, I want to see you too," he said, then closed the door.

All three boys groaned.

"Well there you go!" Alex said, throwing his hands into the air. "Gentlemen, we've got ourselves doctor's appointments today!"

"That's not a very good thing, Al," Percy said grumpily, folding his arms.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"It wasn't you, Harry," Percy told him. "You were just—"

"Doing exactly what we want you to do," Alex interjected.

Percy and Harry both turned to look at him. "Huh?"

"You defended yourself," Alex explained. "That's what we want you to do! Now try it on Dr. Oliver today!"

Harry felt uneasy. "I don't know, Alex..."

"Come on, Lightning Boy," Alex pleaded. "Dr. Oliver hasn't seen much from you. Bruise his pride a little, it'll feel good. I promise."

"What do I say?" Harry asked him.

"The rudest thing that comes to your head," Percy suggested. "Then, say it with confidence and he'll be so shocked you can kick him in the shin."

Harry hesitated, then sighed. "If it makes you happy, I'll do it. But don't expect it to be a bloody performance."

Alex laughed. "That part's your call."

That afternoon, the three boys parted ways to go to the offices of their assigned adults. Alex knocked on the door rather harder than he would usually have, and Dr. Wilkinson opened the door with a smile on her face.

"Come on in, Second," she said cheerfully.

Alex didn't say anything as he trudged grumpily into the office. He jumped onto the examiner's table and swung his legs back and forth.

Dr. Wilkinson sat down in a swivel chair and turned toward him with her hands folded. "Second," she said solemnly, "did you start the fight with the pillows this morning?"

Alex looked at his sneakers. "Uh-huh."

"And was that a very smart decision?"

Alex shook his head.

"Are you going to do it again?"

Alex shook his head again.

Dr. Wilkinson stood up, and put her hand on his chin, tilting his face up to look at her.

"Look at me, Second," she said firmly.

Alex reluctantly turned his eyes to hers, but his gaze kept drifting to her computer on her desk. What information did it have? How many adults in the building knew personal facts about him? He wouldn't put it past the doctors and scientists to gossip with each other that he hadn't reached his growth spurt yet. That thought made him mad.

Dr. Wilkinson saw him frown. "What is it?" She asked.

"We were just having a little fun," Alex said quietly. "That's all."

Dr. Wilkinson sighed, and pursed her lips together. "I know, I know. But you were extremely loud. Someone could've gotten hurt, or gotten a concussion."

All Alex really heard from that comment was "you were extremely loud." Inside his head, Alex scowled. _We were extremely loud?_ He wanted to say. _I'm deeply sorry we woke you from your beauty sleep, Dr. Wilkinson. Would you like it if I chucked a pillow at Percy and Harry a little quieter?_ But he refrained, and bit his tongue.

Instead, he said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Wilkinson."

Dr. Wilkinson smiled again. "That's great news, Second."

Alex hopped down from his table, and as he made his way to the door, he looked back.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "but my name is Alex, Dr. Wilkinson. Alex Rider. I'm seven years old from London, England, and I live with my uncle Ian and my housekeeper Jack. And you don't own me." He stomped out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Dr. Wilkinson watched as he left, and smiled to herself. "Oh, I know," she said softly. "But I'll teach you something, Alex."

Percy didn't really want admit how scared he was. He'd been to Dr. Crandall's a bunch of times before, but not when he'd actually done something wrong. He knocked on the door softly, and Dr. Crandall swung open the door. He took one look at Percy, jerked his head to the side, and Percy followed him into the office. He leaned against the long table with the sheet covering it, waiting, then sat on it. Dr. Crandall typed something on his computer for a long time.

Percy fidgeted with his fingers, smoothing his index finger over his thumb. It helped him deal with his stress as he thought about what was going to happen to him. Was Dr. Crandall giving him the silent treatment?

He craned his neck to see the doctor typing something on his computer. Dr. Crandall looked over his shoulder pointedly, then wordlessly turned back to his keyboard.

Definitely the cold shoulder, Percy thought resentfully. He sighed.

His mom had told him what to do when someone gave you the cold shoulder. Try talking to them first, she'd told him, and if that doesn't work, don't speak to them at all. That takes the sense out of the whole fight.

Percy cleared his throat. "Um, Dr. Crandall?" He asked. When the doctor didn't look at him, he continued. "Is this about the pillow fight?"

Dr. Crandall waited for a long moment, then turned off his computer and faced Percy. "Yes, Percy, it is," he said solemnly. "Let me impress upon you the danger and the problems it could've caused. You could've been hurt, and if we hadn't gotten to you in time, who knows what could've happened!"

Percy cocked his head to the side. "Like what, Dr. Crandall?"

Dr. Crandall straightened his gloves. "What if one of the pillows had knocked you unconscious?"

"It wasn't filled with a cinder block," Percy said, genuinely confused.

Dr. Crandall went on. "What if you'd fallen backwards and hit yourself on the bedpost?"

Percy shrugged. "I thought I was perfectly balanced."

Dr. Crandall shook his head. "But Percy," he said, his voice desperate to get his point across, "what if you'd died?"

Percy blinked. "Died? Then I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you, would I?"

Dr. Crandall's eye started to twitch. Percy thought he looked like he was slowly going insane.

Then, he took a deep breath, looked at his gloves, and seemed to get his head together. "Let's take some blood tests, shall we?" He took out a particularly sharp needle, and Percy inched away instinctively.

Dr. Crandall sighed. "Percy, we've been through this. It's not going to hurt."

"But it did last time," Percy said, squirming. "Can I please go back to lessons?"

But Dr. Crandall shook his head. "I'm sorry. I've got to do this. But I don't want to hurt you. I promise."

Percy relaxed as the doctor drew the needle into his skin, then drew it out. It pinched and burned like a fire in his veins. He yelped.  
Dr. Crandall put his blood sample into a vial, and put it away in a cabinet.

"You said it wouldn't hurt!" Percy cried out, cradling his arm where the needle had pierced it. Dr. Crandall took a special, suction-cup-like device from his desk and attached it to Percy's leg.

"Stay still," Dr. Crandall droned. He pressed a button, and Percy felt fire spread up his legs and into his spine.

As the doctor removed the device, Percy said with his eyes watering, "I trusted you."

Dr. Crandall took Percy by the shoulders and squeezed him towards him. "I know, sport," he said quietly. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

Percy turned his tear-filled eyes to him, and sniffed. "But you promised."

Dr. Crandall stepped away, and said, "You're dismissed, Percy."

Percy slid off the table and left the office.

Dr. Crandall watched him leave, the boy's words echoing in his head.

 _"_ _But you promised."_

"Well, Percy," he said quietly, "you should be tired of plastic promises by now."

Harry was uneasy. Alex and Percy were trusting him to stand up to Dr. Oliver and to give insult after insult, but he wasn't sure he could do it. He'd given Dr. Oliver a little lip a couple days before, sure—but this was for who-knew-how-long, where Harry couldn't stalk off to go back to his bedroom. That would be considered rude.

However, he did find it easier to think of Dr. Oliver's face after he'd talked back to him. That was definitely something worth doing again.

But all of his confidence drained when Dr. Oliver opened the door to his office. The man smiled at him.

"Glad to see Dr. Wilkinson got the message across," he said. "But we're not going into my office just yet. Follow me."

Confused, Harry followed the scientist down a few hallways and through a door he'd never been through before. A sign read GYMNASIUM.

Harry anxiously walked into the big room with Dr. Oliver, who told Harry to stand by a blue line at the end of the gym.

Harry gulped. Was this some sort of test? The gym was huge, and he reckoned it would take him more than twenty strides to get to the other side.

Dr. Oliver stood with a stopwatch-like device in his hand, a silver button on top. "Alright, Third?" He called out to Harry from the opposite side of the gym.

Harry nodded with the most confidence he had.

"All you have to do is run back and forth from both sides of the gym, blue line to blue line," the scientist instructed. "I'll count how many laps you do." He must've seen Harry run a hand through his hair nervously. "Basically, just run till you puke."

That didn't make Harry feel any better. He ran a hand through his hair again, wishing he could be anywhere else. Dr. Oliver held up the device.

"On the count of three!" He called. "One. Two! Three!"

Harry started off at a slow pace, remembering the runs he'd had to endure at his old school with his cousin, how he'd been left in the dust most of the time. It hadn't been because he was slow, only because people kept pushing him to the ground. But he was the only person here this time.

There was no one to push him to the floor if he started to pick up speed, no one to sneer at him as he neared the front, no one to trip him at the last minute before he reached the finish line.

This was his race. And he was determined to win.

He'd lost count of how many laps he'd ran when Dr. Oliver asked if he was tired.

"You wanna stop?" He said. "We can stop if you like!"

Harry was sure this was a trick, so he shook his head and kept running. He started to run faster, and faster, until he was breathing heavily and his lungs were on fire. His foot barely hit the blue line before he was off again in the other direction, running and running and running.

He didn't know much later it was—a half hour? An hour and a half?—when he finally stopped. Harry fell to the floor, breathing heavily, his arms spread out. He hadn't known he could run for that long. He could barely move.

"Third?" Dr. Oliver said, coming to stand over him. He had his stopwatch-like device in his hand, and was speculating it with interest. "Just over fifty-two minutes. Impressive. Can you get up okay?"

Harry didn't answer, but his legs were sore and his throat was scratchy. It hurt. Dr. Oliver must've known, too, because he scooped Harry into his arms and held him so his head was resting on his shoulder.

Harry wanted to say thanks, but he only managed an unintelligible "gahhhrr."

Dr. Oliver just laughed.

After a few minutes, Harry realized that he recognized the hallway. "Where are we going?"

"My office," the scientist replied. "I want to run some tests."

Harry, still slow to react from his long run, didn't have that full sentence process in his brain until they reached the door. Dr. Oliver set Harry down on a table covered in a sheet of white. Harry looked around anxiously at the interior of the office—it looked pretty normal to him, but he knew better than to think it was. His aunt and uncle and cousin had been calling him abnormal for years, so he knew what it was like when something wasn't as it seemed. He sat against the wall, hugging his knees as Dr. Oliver typed something on the computer on his desk. When he turned back, he had a device in his hand with two notches on the bottom shaped like squares. He lip twitched when he saw Harry in his protective position.

"Third, it's nothing to be afraid of," he said.

"I'll know it's nothing to be afraid of when you say my name," Harry said quietly. "I don't trust you, Dr. Oliver."

The scientist folded his arms. "And why shouldn't you? You could have a different scientist. One of those who run test after test relentlessly, not caring whether you get hurt in the process or not. You want one of those? Or a sneering one, who gives you insult after insult until you're left as just a shell of yourself, shivering on the floor? You're lucky you don't have one of those people, Third. You're lucky you only have me."

Harry was positivity terrified now. His face paled, but he kept his voice firm as he said, "'Only you,' Dr. Oliver? How I can thank my lucky stars that I got only you, the one who makes me run for an hour and tells me everything's going to be okay? It's not. Whatever you're doing is not okay. It's not justice to me."

"Third, it doesn't matter if it's justice to you," Dr. Oliver said gently. "We've got it all taken care of. Now, just sit back and let me do my work."

Harry stared at him for a long time. Then, he released his hold around his knees and sat still.

"Attaboy," Dr. Oliver said brightly. "Now just relax."

He took Harry's arm, rolled up his sleeve, and wiped it with a small cloth soaked in a special liquid. Harry squirmed at the touch.

"Relax," Dr. Oliver said calmly. "Just relax."

Harry tried to stop tensing his arm. Dr. Oliver put down the cloth, and picked up the device with the square notches.

Then, in one swift movement, he plunged the notches in Harry's arm, clicked a button on top, and pulled them out.

Harry bit his tongue to keep from whimpering. He looked down at his arm and saw that there were two tiny square marks where he had been punctured.

Dr. Oliver put a Band-Aid over the puncture marks and rolled Harry's sleeve back down.

"See what I did, buddy? Everything turned out okay."

Harry glared at him. "This is not okay, Dr. Oliver."

Dr. Oliver checked his watch. "Three o'clock already? Blimey, we'd better finish up. Here, put this in your mouth." He handed Harry a thermometer, and he hesitantly put it on his tongue.

"Why do you need this?" He asked. "I'm not sick."

Dr. Oliver hit the Enter key on his keypad. "Do you know how a thermometer works, Third?" He asked, staring at his screen. "It tells me what temperature you're body is at."

"Mmm-hmm," Harry said, crossing his eyes to look down at the thermometer. He couldn't quite get it right, so he kept trying.

"And when I know your body's temperature," Dr. Oliver went on, typing a few more things into his computer, "it'll be good for my research."

"Mmm," Harry said. Why couldn't he cross his eyes like he used to? He tried again to see the numbers on the thermometer.

"And my research helps me know about you," Dr. Oliver continued, hitting the space bar, then the Enter key. "Now, I think the thermometer should be working—" he turned around, only to see Harry trying again and again to cross his eyes to see the thermometer.

"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously.

Harry looked up. "Hmm?"

Dr. Oliver laughed. "I said, what are you doing?"

"I'm—trying—to—see—the—thermometer," Harry said, crossing his eyes again.

Dr. Oliver pulled it out of his mouth and read the numbers. "Looks like you're pretty normal," he said.

"Normal?" Harry asked. "I told you I'm not sick."

Dr. Oliver shook his head. "That's not what I meant. For a little boy who just ran for an hour, you don't seem very out of breath."

Harry realized that he didn't feel so tired anymore. But... why? Just a second ago, he'd been gasping for breath, his legs sore and his throat hurting. But now the pain had just... stopped. Was that possible?

Harry felt a rush of fear. What if Dr. Oliver ran more tests because of this? He couldn't let that happen.

"I'm still really tired," he said, trying to put as much fatigue into his voice as he could. "I'm just sitting now. Could I have some water?"

Dr. Oliver filled a plastic cup with water and held it out. Harry gulped it down in one sip.

The scientist took it back, saying, "I guess you are worn out."

But he didn't toss the cup. Instead, he placed it on his desk next to his computer.

"Aren't you going to throw the cup away?" Harry asked in spite of himself. His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"Oh, no," Dr. Oliver responded. "I'm going to study your DNA on the edge of the cup. Your temperature looked normal, so you shouldn't be as tired. Are you sure you're exhausted?"

Harry nodded, slumping against the wall. He yawned.

"You want to rest here, buddy?" Dr. Oliver asked him.

"Will you run tests on me while I sleep?" Harry asked, yawning again.

Dr. Oliver hesitated, then answered, "Of course not. Now rest there."

Harry waited, then curled up on the table and looked at the scientist with his head on his elbows. "Don't tell me what to do, Dr. Oliver."

Dr. Oliver smiled as he closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, Dr. Vanhallsen walked into the office. She looked at Harry's sleeping form and asked, "Is he out?"

Dr. Oliver went over to put his hand on his chest. "I think he's asleep," he said. "His heart's beating pretty slowly."

Dr. Vanhallsen nodded. "How'd you get him to sleep?"

Dr. Oliver shrugged. "Got him knackered from a long run. Was easy from there. Are the other two...?"

Dr. Vanhallsen said, "They both bolted from the offices. Had someone there with a tranquilizer dart or two."

The scientist's brow furrowed. "Isn't that... dangerous?"

"They'll wake up in a couple hours," Dr. Vanhallsen told him. "By then, we'll be done with our work. Now let's get this one prepped."

She turned Harry onto his back and strapped him to the table. Dr. Oliver changed him into a hospital gown as Dr. Vanhallsen typed something into her computer. She went over to take a blood sample.

"Type A positive," she said. "We'll need a lock of his hair too, Dr. Oliver."

Dr. Oliver snipped a lock of hair off Harry's head, and he slipped it into a plastic bag. When he came back to the table after giving it to Dr. Vanhallsen, he looked for the place where he'd cut it out. But it wasn't there. Puzzled, he looked again. Hadn't there been a tiny spot a few seconds ago... he shook his head. Maybe it was a smaller piece than he'd realized.

Dr. Oliver pressed on a tile in the ceiling, and it slid away to reveal a large device that was so big one might have wondered how it could fit up there. Dr. Oliver fitted it over the table and pressed a button.

Beams crisscrossed over Harry's face as they passed over him. When it was finished, Dr. Oliver shut off the machine and hefted it back into its place in the ceiling. Dr. Vanhallsen injected a serum into Harry's arm so he wouldn't wake up in the middle of their work. Dr. Oliver measured his heart rate and his vitals.

"Hmm," he said, staring at the screen thoughtfully.

"'Hmm?'" Dr. Vanhallsen echoed. "What's wrong?"

Dr. Oliver swore. "That kid was lying to me. He was perfectly healthy after the run. Maybe he was tired for a few minutes, but not when I asked him if he was. He faked it!" He turned to the doctor beside him. "Did you sedate him?"

Dr. Vanhallsen nodded. "Of course. You're saying he lied to you about his health?"

Dr. Oliver rubbed his chin. "Yes. But to what avail?"

"I have no idea," Dr. Vanhallsen answered, slipping a piece of rubber into Harry's mouth and manipulating his chin to bite down on it.

Dr. Oliver pushed a key on his keyboard, and an image of a set of teeth appeared on the screen.

"These are his?" Dr. Oliver asked.

Dr. Vanhallsen took the rubber out. "Yes. But Dr. Oliver... about the lying..."

"I'll punish him for that," Dr. Oliver decided. "I'm obviously not getting though to him if he thought it was okay to fool me. Do you have any further tests you need to run straight away?"

"Adrenaline levels," Dr. Vanhallsen responded. "I need to get his blood pumping, or his heart beating, or something. So we can use it for the future."

"That's perfect," Dr. Oliver said.

"Do you need any help?"

"No," Dr. Oliver said. "I've got just the thing."

 **That was a loooong one for a loooong time without updating-in other words, sorry for making you wait. But I made up for it, didn't I? ;) I hope you liked it, I got a little more coverage on all three boys this time.**

 **As always, review and constructive criticism is always welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8

Percy woke up with his mind spinning. He looked around. This was Dr. Crandall's office. But hadn't he left it a few minutes ago? He looked down and saw that he was in a hospital gown and that his head hurt. He jumped down from the table and went to the door.

Percy stuck his head out the door. When he saw the hallway was empty, he looked back inside the office to find his old clothes on a chair. He changed and waited for Dr. Crandall to come back.

The doctor did, thirty minutes later. Percy sat on the long table with his elbows on his knees.

"You're back early."

Dr. Crandall jumped. "How'd—"

"I woke up half an hour ago," Percy interrupted.

Dr. Crandall went over to him and rubbed his back. "I'm sorry," he said. "Dr. Vanhallsen wanted me to talk to her."

Percy's face went white. "What happened? Is it Alex? Harry? What'd you do?"

"No, no, it's nothing to be worried about," Dr. Crandall said quickly. "She was just wondering how you were."

Percy folded his arms grumpily. "And how should I be? Perfectly healthy. Right?"

"You are perfectly healthy," Dr. Crandall told him. "I just tested your system to make sure you were."

Percy was visibly having a hard time digesting these words. "Fine," he said finally. "Can I go now?"

"You can go now," Dr. Crandall agreed, "but make sure you get to dinner on time."

Alex was in a grumpy mood. He did not like waking up in a hospital gown before dinnertime with his least favorite doctor hovering over him.

"Hey," she said. "Glad to see you're up, Alex."

Alex's cheeks burned hot with rage. "You'll be glad, I'm sure, so you can—wait, did you say Alex?"

Dr. Wilkinson smiled. "Well, that is your name, isn't it?"

Alex stopped, distracted. "Uh—yeah. But how...?"

"You can go on down to dinner," Dr. Wilkinson said. "I'm sure Percy and Harry will be waiting for you."

Alex looked at her strangely. "But—but I—"

Dr. Wilkinson pointed to the door. Alex picked up his clothes from the floor and hurried out to the bathroom. Afterward, he peeked into the office. Dr. Wilkinson was staring hard at her computer.

 _What is so important on that computer that she needs to look at it all the time?_ Alex wondered. On a whim, he rapped hard on the glass. Dr. Wilkinson looked up at him.

Alex glared, and she waved. He stormed off to go down to dinner.

Dr. Wilkinson moved her mouse, and clicked on a box marked ADJUSTING. Then, SAVE and SEND. She smiled. "Oh, Alex, what are we going to do with you?"

Harry was absolutely terrified. Why the heck had he woken up in an empty hospital room? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he remembered. Alex. Percy. Dr. Oliver.

Wait...

Dr. Oliver?

Harry let out a cautious, "Hello?" but there was no answer. He spotted his clothes in a pile by the door, and dashed to the bathroom to change.

When he came back, he looked around the office. He thought of leaving to go to dinner, and was actually stepping toward the door, when the lights shut off.

Harry heard a small yelp of surprise, and realized that it had come out of his own mouth. He felt himself being scooped up into someone's arms.

They carried him to the back of the room, and lightly set him down on a hard surface. It was the examiner's table. Harry tried to struggle but the hands press down on him.

He didn't know what to do. This wasn't supposed to be happening! He remembered the last time he'd been in the dark, vulnerable, with hands touching him. He'd woken with blood on his mouth, his lips, his teeth...

 _No, NO!_

"No, NO!" Harry squirmed. "Please... don't..."

Someone rolled him onto his stomach, pinning him in place. The touch was gentle, but unnerving.

"Let me go!" Harry cried helplessly.

There was the sound of something being opened. Harry squirmed again.

"Shhhh..." there was a soft noise as Harry felt the chilling feeling of a wet cloth rubbing his arm.

"What are you doing? No, _please,_ no..."

There was a click as he felt the tip of a needle penetrate his skin, then exit, and the feeling of a bandage being stuck on where it had pricked him.

Then, someone picked him up again, cradling his head to their chest.

 _"_ _Shhhh..."_

There it was again. But Harry didn't want to be quiet. He'd had enough of that command. He flailed, kicking and swinging his arms around and around.

"I won't hurt you, buddy," came a soft voice. It belonged to the person holding him. All of a sudden, the lights turned on.

Harry looked up into the face of Dr. Oliver.

"Gerroff!" Harry shouted, "I know you will!"

Dr. Oliver looked down at him with concern. "I am not going to harm you, Third. Unless I have to."

"But..." Harry tried to keep the whimper out of his voice. "But you just..."

"I am only doing my job, Third," Dr. Oliver said soothingly.

"Your—job?" Harry hiccuped.

"That's right, Third."

"Don't—call me that," Harry said.

Dr. Oliver rocked him gently. "Call you what?"

"Third," Harry replied. "It's not my name. Aren't you supposed to be mature—calling me by my real name?"

Dr. Oliver hummed. "All in good time, Third. Now, hows about you go down to lunch, 'kay?"

"No," Harry said. "I want you to tell me everything."

"Everything?" Dr. Oliver echoed, amused. "I think not, my curious charge. 'Everything' is something I can't tell you."

"But—"

"If you don't cooperate with me, Third, I'm going to have to take you down to the cafeteria like this," Dr. Oliver warned, but his smile was good-natured.

"You wouldn't!" Harry exclaimed, his face growing red.

"I would," Dr. Oliver responded.

"Dr. Oliver—"

But the doctor wasn't listening. With Harry still cradled in his arms, he opened the door and made his way to the cafeteria.

He set Harry down on top of the table, in front of Alex and Percy's bewildered faces.

"Um...hi," Harry said shyly.

"Hi," Percy and Alex chorused.

Dr. Oliver patted his head and walked away with a smile on his face.

"What was that?" Alex burst out as soon as he was gone.

Harry shrugged. He explained what had happened, and when he was done, both of his friends were looking at him with weird expressions.

"You mean... he injected something in you?" Alex asked him.

"That's _jacked_ up," Percy said.

Harry and Alex stared.

Percy shrugged. "It had to be said."

"Me and Percy went through the same thing," Alex said slowly. "Except the, you know, injection. Do you think there's a reason it happened to all of us?"

"They want us for something, or else they wouldn't have kept us here," Percy reasoned. "But the question is: what is it?"

By the end of the day, all three boys were exhausted. They climbed into bed without saying a word. Percy stared up into the darkness,

absentmindedly feeling his arm. What had Dr. Crandall injected into him? It honestly scared him what could've gone—what could be—going

through his bloodstream without his knowing it. He turned on his side.

"Alex? Harry?"

He heard Alex's response of, "What?" But Harry's side of the room was quiet.

"Lightning Boy," Alex whispered. "Hey, LB, you still awake?"

There was no answer.

"He must be worn out," Percy said. "Didn't Dr. Oliver put something extra into his bloodstream?"

"Yeah," Alex answered. "It's messed up, how easily they could do that to us." He hesitated, then said, "I'm scared, Perce."

"Me too," Percy replied. "Why us? Why not any other kid on the street? We're not... important, are we?"

"I can't think of anything I've done to make me important enough to piss off some scientists," Alex said thoughtfully. "At least, if having one grump of an uncle counts."

"What do you mean?"

"Ian's never home," Alex said. "He's in Hong Kong right now. He's a banker. But—Percy, would a banker come home from business trips with bruises and broken bones? Tell me I'm not crazy. Would a banker want to have their nephew in karate?"

"You're in karate?" Percy asked. I'll never steal Alex's pancakes again, he vowed.

"Uh-huh. He doesn't... he doesn't pay attention to me that much. Sometimes I think—sometimes I think that he forgets I exist."

"Alex, I'm sure he loves you," Percy reassured him. "And don't worry, if he makes you mad, give him something to remember you by and karate-kick him where it hurts."

Alex laughed. "I tried once, but he's too fast. Lemme try again, though. He won't see it coming!"

Percy smiled, although he knew Alex couldn't see it. He stayed like that for a few moments, then said quietly, "Alex?"

"Yeah, Percy?"

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither."

There was a pause.

"Reckon we should...," Alex began. "Erm, go somewhere?"

"Where do ya think we would go?" Percy asked.

"You know this place better than I do."

Percy thought for a moment. Then, another smile crept onto his face. "I know the perfect place."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?" He could hear the mischief in Alex's voice. Percy heard the creaking of Alex coming down the ladder.

"Lead the way," he said, smiling toothily.

"Hold on," Percy said, climbing out of bed. "We've got to wake up Harry."

"Oh, right," Alex said. He looked over at the smaller boy's sleeping figure and said, "Actually... shouldn't we let him sleep? With the... injection, and all?"

"Al, we all had injections," Percy reminded him. "Harry just had his in a sedative state."

Alex folded his arms. "Like that makes me feel tons better."

"Still," Percy pressed. "We're basically in the same boat as him."

"But..." Alex looked worried. "I just wanna... protect him. He's so small and, you know, he doesn't know how to defend himself—"

"Harry's got his own battles to fight," Percy answered. "And he's got Dr. Oliver breathing down his neck all day. Give the kid a break. And besides, his size makes it all the more reason for us to be with him when he goes through these—"

"Therapy sessions?" Alex snorted.

"Right."

"Let's wake him up then, shall we?"

 **You've gotta give me this, you guys-that was quick. Like wow. Unfortunately though, it's probably going to be my last speedy update for a bit.**

 **In exchange for the fast chapter...**

 **Some reviews? *puppy eyes***


	9. Chapter 9

Dr. Oliver wrung his hands together. "Boys, why didn't you tell us this happened sooner?"

"We tried," Percy answered. "We just... we just didn't want to leave him alone, but then neither

of us wanted to be alone in the lab—"

Dr. Crandall held up a hand. "That's enough. Next time contact us immediately."

"Ok, Dr. Crandall."

The door to the library opened, and Dr. Wilkinson rushed in. Her eyes set on Alex instantly, and

she put her hands on her hips. "Alex. What have you done now?"

Alex felt his face grow hot. "Wha—nothing, I swear! We were... just talking, and... Harry just

dropped! It wasn't my fault, or Percy's!"

"Why were you even here?" Dr. Oliver asked, feeling Harry's pulse as he knelt down.

Alex threw a sidelong glance at Percy, who shifted his weight to his other foot.

"Erm...," the sea-green-eyed boy mumbled. "We couldn't sleep."

Dr. Crandall raised and eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Don't punish Percy for this," Alex cut in. "Please. It's my fault. It was my idea to go

somewhere."

"But I went along with it," Percy argued. "Don't hurt Alex either, Doctor, I showed him where

to go. He didn't have to follow me."

"I did, though," Alex said angrily. "You don't have to take the blame for this, Percy!"

"No, he doesn't," Dr. Wilkinson said quietly. "Because both of you will be paying the price for

this."

She nodded at Dr. Oliver, who scooped Harry up and carried him out the door. Dr. Crandall

gave Percy a stern look and inclined his head toward the hall. Percy went out of the library,

looking over his shoulder and smiling sheepishly at Alex. The blonde boy waved.

Dr. Wilkinson looked down at Alex sternly. "What happened?"

Alex explained, and when he was finished, she knelt down to his level and said, "We need to

talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" Alex said incredulously. "I mean, we didn't do anything—"

"Sneaking out to the library in the middle of the night is 'not doing anything?'" Dr. Wilkinson

asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's—it's—" but Alex faltered, not finishing his sentence upon seeing the look on the doctor's

face.

"Alex," Dr. Wilkinson said, taking his arm, "I know Harry and Percy are your friends. But you

can't drag them into things like this."

"I know," Alex said, not looking at her. "I just... I want them to be happy."

He didn't see Dr. Wilkinson's incredulous face. "Happy?"

"Um, yeah," Alex replied. He kept his gaze glued to the floor. "Please, please don't punish

Percy for this. Or Harry! They didn't do anyth—"

"But they did," Dr. Wilkinson said reasonably. "You all went to the library with no supervision,

in the middle of the night. That's a very wrong thing to do."

"But—"

"Alex," the scientist said seriously.

Alex turned to face her, nervous about the outcome of this conversation. "Yeah?"

"Come to my office with me."

No, no, that was the opposite of what he wanted to happen! Thinking quickly, he said,

"Um—no, thanks, I think I'll just go back to bed—"

"This is nonnegotiable," she said seriously. "Come."

"No!" Alex exclaimed. "I don't have to come if I don't want to—"

"Alex," Dr. Wilkinson said somberly. "I didn't want to have to do this—"

"What, you're going to knock me out?" Alex said indignantly. "Like they did with Harry? Like

Dr. Crandall will do to Percy? Alright, Doctor, make me pass out. It won't matter; I'll still

remember everything that happened tonight and how much of a monster you are."

Dr. Wilkinson straightened, adjusting her white jacket. "There are a few things you need to

understand, Alex.

"What are they?"

Dr. Wilkinson offered her hand. "Come with me to my office."

Alex ignored the hand, leading the way out the door. "Fine. But I can find my own way there,

thank you."

Once Alex found himself once again on the doctor's covered table. He swung his legs anxiously,

eyeing the numerous syringes and needles she had around the office. Why did she have so

many? It made him uncomfortable.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice on edge.

Dr. Wilkinson picked up the mouse to her computer, clicking a few times, then she set it down.

"Has Percy told you why he thinks you're here?"

Alex blinked. "No." He sat up straighter, suddenly very attentive. "What did he say?"

"He thinks you're 'special,' some sort of 'chosen' breed of kids," Dr. Wilkinson told him, still

staring at her computer screen. "But I need to tell you something, Alex." She finally turned in

her chair to face him, looking so very grave. "The thing is, why we brought you here—"

"Why you took me," Alex said flatly, unable to help himself.

"Yes. Why we took you—"

"Dr. Wilkinson?" Dr. Crandall appeared at the door, Percy in his wake. The sea-green-eyed boy

looked very pale.

Alex jumped off the table, swinging down and running to his friend. "What's happened?"

"It's Harry," Percy said, his voice hoarse. "Alex, it's bad—we've gotta help him—"

" _No,"_ Dr. Crandall thrust his arm in front of Percy, blocking his way. "Don't take another step,

Percy."

Percy's eyes grew wide with terror. "But—Dr. Crandall—"

"What's the problem?" Dr. Wilkinson asked, eyes on Alex, as if he was going to run off too.

"He's convulsing," Dr. Crandall explained. "Dr. Oliver is trying his best, but he needs us."

"We'll come too," Percy said hopefully. "We're good at calming him down, see, Alex and me

done it before—"

Dr. Wilkinson pursed her lips, and for a second Alex thought she was going to correct his

grammar, but instead replied with, "Percy, it's too dangerous. Harry is extremely fragile—"

"Which is exactly why we should help him!" Alex persisted. "He trusts us, Dr. Wilkinson! He'll

stop for us."

"He's not in his right mind." Dr. Crandall's words made Alex's stomach churn with unease. "He

won't even know it's you."

"We'll _make_ him know." Alex squared his shoulders. "Come on, Perce."

The two boys dashed to Dr. Oliver's office, finding the distressed scientist pulling a mask over

his face.

" _Percy! Alex!"_

"How's Harry?" Alex asked urgently.

"When he passed out, he started shaking," Dr. Oliver said. "He keeps—saying _things—"_

"What's he saying?"

Dr. Oliver went very white. "I can't—I can't make it out, you wouldn't understand." He sighed.

"What are you here for, exactly?"

"We're here to help," Percy said brightly.

"No, absolutely _not—"_

"We can help." Alex said firmly. He strode over to the curtain at the back of the room and

determinedly yanked it aside.

Harry was lying with his nightshirt unbuttoned on the table, shivering and looking very small,

his chest rising and falling fast. His face was ashen, his hair unruly, and his glasses were resting

on the table next to him. The lightning scar stood out starkly against the pale skin of his

forehead, almost begging for attention. The boy was in a terrible state.

Alex felt a gasp escape his lips. "Harry—"

Arms wrapped around his torso, suddenly, wrenching him backwards to smack into someone's

chest. Alex drew in a breath, smelling a familiar perfume. He looked up into the face of Dr.

Wilkinson, as she smoothed his hair back behind his ears. "Stay away from the table, Alex," she

said quietly, almost like a whisper. Her words sounded broken to Alex, like she knew Harry

wouldn't make it—like he would die, right there on that hospital table.

Alex swallowed a lump in his throat, watching as Percy—being held at bay by Dr.

Crandall—nodded to him.

"Dr. Wilkinson?" Alex said, cringing at how meek his voice sounded.

"Yes, sweetie?"

Alex blinked, hard. She expected him to wait, to accept that nothing could be done for his

friend. She expected him to wait for friend to die.

But waiting just wasn't him.

Throwing all his weight into his foot, he stomped down hard, pulling away as Dr. Wilkinson

sucked in a surprised breath.

Percy ducked under Dr. Crandall's arms, bolting for the other side of the table.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, reaching out to touch the boy.

"Don't touch him," Alex warned. "We've got to find some way…"

"Boy's get _away_ from there," Dr. Crandall said, stepped forward.

"No, we can't let him be _left_ like this!" Alex said. "You think we'll leave like this? You must be

mad!"

"Alex, slow down," Dr. Oliver said. "We're not going to leave him like this. We're researching to

find the best possible way to treat him."

"Since he doesn't respond to our treatments very well," Dr. Wilkinson explained, "We thought it

was best to try other means of healing him."

Percy voiced what Alex was thinking. "What's wrong with him?"

The doctors exchanged glances.

"Nothing we've seen before," Dr. Crandall said, finally. "But we need to get you boys to bed."

Percy shook his head. "No, you don't understand—we can help!"

"No, you _can't,_ Percy, and that is final!" Dr. Crandall took him by the arm and dragged him out

the door.

Alex turned. "Percy—"

But then Dr. Wilkinson took him by the ear and tugged him outside, shaking her head. "Alex,

we can't have you doing this," she told him. "We have to trust that what dr. Oliver is doing to

treat Third will work. He's one of our best men on the job."

"But what if it doesn't work?" Alex challenged. "Dr. Crandall said it himself—you've never

seen anything like this before! How do we know Harry won't… he won't…" He fell silent,

scuffing his shoes on the floor.

"He won't die, Alex," Dr. Wilkinson said. "The equations just don't add up. If we do this

mathematically correct—"

"So Harry's life depends on _math?"_

"Third's life depends on _science,_ Alex," Dr. Wilkinson answered. "And that's all we need."

She dropped him off at his bedroom locking both boys inside and running a hand over her face.

This was going to work out. A blip in the system, was all…

Harry was sure he was dreaming. He _had_ to be. That had to be the only explanation for the

things he was seeing.

There was a snake, thick and coiled and dark green. It was hissing at him, fangs bared, ready to strike, to _kill —_

 **This human is mine, I think I should take himself for my own, shall I?**

Harry's brain went on hyperdrive, rapidly trying to assess the situation. He remembered one of

Alex's choice swear words as his blood froze.

Had the snake… _hissed_ at him?

And he'd— _understood?_

 _Shit._

 **Don't kill me! I'm not even that good, I promise—**

He didn't know what had come out of his mouth, but whatever it was, the snake stopped in its

tracks.

 **The little human is a speaker?**

 **I don't know what a speaker is.** Harry added hurriedly, **But I am one, I can assure you. And**

 **didn't I promise that I don't taste good? I'm all skin and bones, everyone says so—**

The snake looked progressively more annoyed with him. **Be quiet, little speaker.**

 **I can be quiet, too, it's one of my talents actually—**

Harry shut up at the beady look in the snake's eyes. Could he be killed in a dream?

Was that a coma? Would he be in a coma? What would Percy and Alex think?

What would the doctors and scientists do?

 _Probably do more experiments on you,_ a nasty voice whispered in his head. _You'll give them free_

 _reign to do whatever they want to you._

Harry swallowed. He couldn't let that happen.

 **Listen,** he tried, tentatively. **If I promise to be quiet, will you not eat me?**

The snake considered him for a moment. **I have not had a good meal in years…**

 _Oh, no —_

 **But what the speaker requests, I shall adhere to. It's what the master would have wanted.**

And then the snake slunk away, leaving Harry floating in very disconcerting darkness.

 _Had the snake mentioned a master?_

He _really_ wasn't cut out for this.

 **A/N: Was that a long wait? Yes. Am I SO sorry? Yes. You guys have my apologies, oops, but as a favor to me would you please leave a review? Us writers live off of that stuff…**

 **Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

_Before_

 _12:52 am_

 _Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Why'd you wake me up again?"_

"' _Cause," Alex said, bouncing from foot to foot. "We can't sleep."_

" _And I know the perfect place to go," Percy said happily._

 _Harry's curiosity piqued. "Ooh, where?"_

" _You'll see," was the mischievous response he got from Percy._

 _Harry followed his two friends down the hall and into a dark room. Percy pushed open the door, the creaking and clicking of the locks turning filling Harry's ears._

"Shhhh…"

"Let me go!"

"I'm only doing my job, Third."

"But…"

"I won't hurt you…"

"No, no, NO!"

" _Harry?"_

 _Harry's eyes popped open. "Huh?"_

 _Alex's brown eyes blinked at him, concerned. "Are you…"_

" _Fine," Harry said quickly. "I'm fine."_

 _Percy inched closer to him. "Harry—"_

" _So, what is this place?" Harry said loudly._

" _This is the place I always go to when I need some thinking time," Percy said. He gazed proudly at it, like it was his secret and his own. "The library."_

" _Library?" Alex echoed, running his hand along on a book spine as Percy flipped on the lights. "I wouldn't have thought you were… one to…" he trailed off at the sight of Percy's face._

" _One to what?" Harry asked. Alex looked uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "Percy's not a big reader, is all."_

 _Harry shrugged, content with the answer. "Okay!" He jogged to a bookshelf, distracted. He hadn't seen a proper library in months… his brow furrowed. Where were all the good books, the fairy tales and the adventures? Harry ran a hand through his hair. Right. This was a search lab. They weren't used to kids._

 _Or they hadn't been expecting them…_

 _Harry turned around. "Don't you think these doctors and scientists are smart?" he asked._

 _Percy shifted to his other foot. "Erm, yeah. I guess. Why?"_

" _They would be prepared for us," Harry said. He looked at the bookshelf, then back at his friends. "Right?"_

 _Alex shrugged. "Right, but… what would they need to be prepared for?"_

 _Harry turned back to the bookshelf. "If these guys knew that we were coming, wouldn't they offer…" He struggled for the right word._

" _Accommodations?" Alex murmured._

" _Yeah, that."_

" _Accoma-whatsits—"_

" _Accomodations," Alex and Harry corrected._

" _That," Percy continued. "Remember, at the beginning? They knew the clothes we liked, the food we enjoyed—"_

" _Why do you think they weren't expecting us, LB?" Alex asked, looking at Harry curiously._

" _These books," Harry said quietly. "None of them are for… for us. If they'd expected us—_ truly _expected us—they would've made these more for us. To complete the perfect picture." He turned to his friends. "Something is very wrong here."_

 _And then everything went black._

 _Now_

 _7:27 am_

After a horrible but dreamless sleep, Percy jolted awake and blinked warily in the darkness. He almost bumped his head on the wood beams of the bunk bed, listening in for Alex's quiet breathing. He listened in as the breathing turned ragged, fast and harsh.

What was wrong with Alex?

Percy immediately jumped out of bed and climbed to the top bunk, thoughts gripping his brain that shouldn't have been there. _What if he ended up like Harry? What if Percy was next? What if —_

Alex started to shake, his fingers clenching his bed covers as he twisted and turned. Percy blew out a breath of air.

It was just a nightmare.

He lightly shook Alex's shoulder, whispering his name over and over, but Alex didn't wake. In fact, he seemed to convulse more violently, nearly hitting Percy in the face with his flailing arms. This was bad, so very, _very_ bad.

What was he supposed to do?

Well, the only thing he could, of course.

Percy drew in a sharp breath. "Sorry, Alex," he muttered, before slapping the boy sharply on the cheek.

Alex jerked awake with a gasp, soaked in sweat, eyes wild. "Ian?"

"What—no, it's me!" Percy's brain worked on hyperdrive, quickly thinking _who was Ian?_ before Alex said the name again.

"Ian…"

Percy shook his head. "Al, it's me. Percy, remember?"

"Ian, _please…"_

Percy clenched his fists and pressed them to his temples. He couldn't deal with this now. If Alex thought he was Ian then, then…

Ian Rider, Alex's uncle. The one who was in Hong Kong.

 _Right._

"Alex, I'm not your uncle," Percy said firmly. "He's away, on a business trip, remember? It's me. Your friend Percy—"

"Percy?"

Percy nodded encouragingly at Alex's confused response. "That's me! You were having a nightmare, buddy, but it's all fine now."

Alex shook his head rapidly, rubbing his eyes. Percy could see the cogs in his brain turning, his fingers released the covers he had gripped so tightly.

"I…" His face flushed red, not meeting Percy's eyes. "Shit, sorry, Perce—"

" _Language."_

Alex rolled his eyes. "I wake up from a bloody nightmare and you tell me off about my _language—"_

"Language!"

"Yes, English, exactly."

Percy let out an irritated huff, which was ruined by the fond look he gave his friend. "Are you alright?"

Alex sat up on his elbows, shrugging. "I'm fine now. Just a nightmare was all."

"Alex, you kept calling me your uncle. I don't think you're fine at all."

Alex shook his head. "Jeez, you sound like Lightning Boy…" His face whitened. "We didn't _leave_ him, did we?"

"I…" Did Percy remember last night? What had they done? They'd helped Harry as best as they could,

 _his pale face with closed eyes_

not taking the bait from the doctors as they'd tried to usher them away,

 _his thrashing, whispering things even Dr. Oliver didn't understand_

so what had they done?

 _He was inches away from death._

They'd just… _left_ him there?

Alex seemed to jump to the same conclusion at the same time.

"We've gotta get down there," he said, his eyes as wild as they'd been when he had woken up.

Percy nodded his agreement, jumping down from the bunk and tossing a paper clip to Al for him to pick the lock.

It was stupid of the doctors to think they'd fall for the same trick twice.

… Or maybe they'd _wanted_ them to?

No. He didn't have time to think of that. Not this early in the morning, anyway.

He and Alex hurried down the halls, barely acknowledging the stares they got on the way, and skidded to a stop outside Dr. Oliver's door.

"Is he okay?" Alex asked as soon as the door opened. He pushed his way inside, searching for the curtain that hid their small friend, but failing to find it.

He turned to Dr. Oliver, furious. "Where'd you put him?"

The doctor held up two placating hands and approached him slowly. "Slow _down,_ Alex. Breathe for a second."

Alex took a short, deliberate breath and resumed his glare. "Where did you _put_ him?"

"Alex, look at yourself. You're a wreck. You need to calm down."

Alex glanced down at his striped pajamas and his bare feet, and at Percy's scowl that certainly mirrored his own.

Was he over reacting?

There was no way.

He just needed— _needed—_ to see that Harry was okay. Then he would slow down. He doubted it was any different for Percy.

"I'll ask you one more time, Doctor—"

Dr. Oliver pointed to the door that lead to the closet.

"You put him in a _closet?"_ Percy asked incredulously.

"What—no!" Dr. Oliver said quickly. "That's an extra, smaller office. For precise operations."

 _Operations?_

"They're operating on him?" Alex's voice was smaller than he'd meant it to be.

Dr. Oliver shrugged. "Not necessarily. They're doing whatever they see fit."

"Oh. That makes me feel better!" Alex said sarcastically.

"Easy, Alex."

He recognized that voice.

Alex swore quite colorfully. Not _her_ again…

Judging by Dr. Wilkinson's dubious expression, he'd just said that out loud.

Fine. Let her know how much he hated her. See if he cared!

"Alex, how about we get you a drink of water?" she asked kindly, the kindness in her eyes so similar to Jack's that Alex wanted to be sick.

He shook his head. "I'm good, thanks."

The doctor obviously didn't like that answer, but Alex was past giving a crap.

"What can we do for Harry?" Percy asked.

" _Not_ go in there with the doctors and scientists doing delicate work," Dr. Oliver replied.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Well, duh. But, like, after?"

Dr. Oliver and Dr. Wilkinson exchanged glances.

"We'll see."

 _No_. That was never good.

"There _is_ going to be an after, isn't there?"

"What—Alex, of course there is—"

"Of course you would say that!"

"Because it's true," Dr. Wilkinson explained, gently. "When Third is done with his… _medical work…_ he'll return to you and Percy and resume his classes."

"You're going to send him to _class_ after he's been _operated_ on?" Percy asked, incredulous.

"There's no reason not to."

"What about recovery time? Won't he be-I don't know—traumatized?"

" _Traumatized?_ Percy, it won't be that bad—"

Percy shook his head. "Whatever you say, Dr. Oliver, but I think he needs to stay with me and Alex after. We have to make sure he's okay."

Dr. Oliver folded his arms. "And we're not perfectly capable of doing that ourselves?"

Percy stuttered to a stop. "I… it's not that, it's just—"

"Right then," Dr. Wilkinson clapped her hands together cheerfully. "Alex, Percy, how about you two get dressed and head down to breakfast—by the end of the day, Third should be returned to you, good as new."

 _Good as new? As if he was some robot?_ It baffled Alex to no end. He tugged on Dr. Wilkinson's lab coat. "We're staying here."

" _No_ , you're not." Dr. Oliver gripped the little boys by the scruffs of their necks, shoving them out the door.

"I don't like this," Percy said to Alex as he slid with his back to the wall, defeated.

"Me neither." Alex parked himself in front of Dr. Oliver's office door, craning his neck to attempt to see through the tinted glass inside. Maybe when Dr. Oliver came out, he would ask—

"Perce…" he said, examining the door carefully. "Have you got any… pennies on you?"

"Pennies? No."

Alex tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Have you got, er, four or five pennies?"

"Definitely not."

"Shit. Do you know where I could get some?"

Percy shook his head. "What do you need a bunch of pennies for?"

"You'll see." Alex replied, surveying the door. "Is there anything else—?"

"Ex _cu_ se me, boys, don't you have somewhere to be?"

Alex looked up at the snide voice to see a woman striding towards them, with dark hair and a hawk-like nose. She had her hands on her hips, an expression on her face like a strict school teacher.

Percy, on Alex's right, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "We're waiting for our friend, Dr. Vanhallsen."

So _this_ was Dr. Vanhallsen. Alex nodded his agreement, and the lady doctor folded her arms. "Who might this _friend_ be?"

"His name's Harry," Alex said. "The new kid—short, black hair, glasses."

A strange look passed over the doctor's face at the mention of Harry's name. "Oh, yes. Third. The one with the little lightning bolt on his forehead."

"Uh-huh." Alex didn't like the way the woman was looking, faraway, at Dr. Oliver's office door.

"Is he in there now?"

"Yeah. He's been in there since last night, undergoing surgery or whatever."

At those words, Dr. Vanhallsen came out of her reverie and shook her head. "You boys get back to your room. I'm sure your respective physicians will come to collect you later."

 _I'm sure your respective—_

 _Respective physicians? What did that even mean?_

Alex didn't have much time to think about it when another doctor came hurtling into Dr. Vanhallsen, looking distressed.

"Dr. Chang! What can I do for you?"

Dr. Chang ran a hand through his stuck-up hair. "It's the—" he caught sight of Alex and Percy by the door and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "The… cohesive substance. It's receiving a few malfunctions, Doctor."

"Oh." Dr. Vanhallsen straightened her lab coat. "I'll attend to it later. I need to speak to Dr. Oliver for a moment—can you do me a favor and make sure these boys return to their room?"

Dr. Chang seemed startled at the request. "I… of course, Doctor." He waved awkwardly at Alex and Percy, his movements stiff. "Come on, boys, follow me."

Alex shot Percy a look. "Sure, Dr. Chang."

Percy followed Alex on his heels, grabbing his sleeve. "What are you up to?"

Alex turned to face him, keeping at a slow pace behind Dr. Chang. "Do you know what a 'cohesive substance' is, Perce?"

"I've got an idea."

Alex grinned. "So have I."

Dr. Oliver was fed up.

He was completely and utterly done with the behavior of his patients, the _lack_ of behavior in one, the incompetence of his partner.

Dr. Vanhallsen shut the door of the operating room, stepping through the hallway that lead into Dr. Oliver's office with a defeated expression on her face.

"No luck?"

She shook her head. "He's not being responsive."

"Should we pull the plug on him, then?"

Dr. Vanhallsen looked up immediately. "Pull the plug—I don't know, Jim, he's only been with us for a few days and we've managed to lose control of his health!"

"His _health_ wasn't that much of a problem, Dorrine, it was the fact that he didn't have a stable system."

"That's the same thing, isn't it?" Dr. Vanhallsen flipped through her clipboard, tucking a pen behind her ear. "He's severely malnourished, even after a few days' worth of good feeding—and he's got infected cuts all over him! Not to mention his four teeth missing, Jim, have you seen it?"

"I've seen him, Dorrine, I know." Dr. Oliver rubbed a hand over his face. "Is he really worth it, then? He obviously isn't as healthy as Alex or Percy. His behavior isn't as outgoing as either of them—heck, it's been a week and he hasn't even corrected us on saying his name wrong! What steps are we supposed to take besides giving up?"

"Are you saying we're supposed to just _quit?_ What do we say to his family?"

Dr. Oliver rolled his eyes. "What we say to all of them. They went missing, had an accident, and didn't make it."

"That's a horrible way to say a child's life ended, and you know it."

"I do, but that's the only option we have."

"No." Dr. Vanhallsen cast a look at the operating room door. She wrenched it open and, with new determination, set off down the hall. "I'm going to run more tests—I've got an idea!"

Dr. Oliver closed the door shut behind her, and made his way to the door of his office. He shook the handle.

It stuck.

Had someone locked him in? No, that was impossible, it only worked from the inside…

Dr. Oliver banged on the door, trying to kick it open with his foot.

"Dr. Vanhallsen!" he called, but there was no answer. Instead, he ran at the door and rammed his shoulder into the wood.

There was no give.

Dr. Oliver searched through his desk, retrieving his stapler, and threw it into the small window at the top of the door. He reached his arm through, feeling for the lock, when his fingers caught on something sticky.

 _Sticky?_

When he brought his hand back inside, his fingers were covered in a pink, taffy-like substance. He swore.

The only question was…

How had Alex and Percy gotten into Dr. Chang's gum machine?

There was a voice, a horrible voice, in Harry's head. The snake was long gone, having slithered away at Harry's meagre attempt at making conversation, leaving Harry to be alone in the darkness.

He hated darkness.

It reminded him of his cupboard on Privet Drive, where his cousin would ram his fist into the door and shout for him to wake up, where his aunt would order him around and his uncle would scold him for not having their breakfast done in time.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

If there was a way—any way—to get out of this suffocating darkness, Harry would welcome it.

As if on cue, the horrible voice entered.

" _Can you hear me?"_

Harry wanted to scream _yes, yes he could,_ but no words came out of his mouth. His vocal chords were stuck, fused together like concrete. He felt a lump in his throat and told himself that this wasn't the time to cry, that he couldn't cry in the darkness here. Not until he was back with Percy and Alex.

Did they miss him? Were they trying to get him out?

Or had they forgotten about him, been chased away by the other doctors, already?

It was a depressing thought, but one that entered Harry's mind all the same. It was certainly realistic, and he wasn't naive.

Not _that_ naive, anyway.

The voice returned.

" _Third? Third, if you can hear me, do something! Say something! I know you can."_

He wished he could! Harry wanted to flail his arms, shake his head, _something,_ but his body didn't want to obey.

There was silence for a few moments.

" _Listen, cutie, I know it's been tough. You're not used to this environment, and that's okay—but you need to wake up for me. Dr. Oliver's been talking about pulling the plug on you, and it's scary, I know. I'm doing everything I can to keep you alive. I can see you breathing now, buddy. Just wake up."_

Dr. Oliver was going to pull the plug on him? Didn't that mean he was going to abandon him? Didn't that mean he was going to die?

Harry didn't want to die. He was much too young—he hadn't slapped Dudley in the face yet or given Dr. Oliver crap for insulting him just because he was small—he had so many things to do!

He thought about what he had done to Alex, after he had come back to their room sick and fevered, shaking on the floor. Somehow, Harry had healed him. He knew it like the beating of his own heart.

So all he needed to do was work the same miracle now as he had then, right?

It shouldn't be too hard, right?

Harry took a shaky breath. The darkness wouldn't be with him anymore. He was going _back—_ back to Alex and Percy and the lab and the experiments and the cafeteria and the gym—he was going back to it all.

Or he was going to die trying.

Maybe a little effort was all he needed to stay alive.

When the little boy came to, Dr. Vanhallsen was standing right by his bedside.

He jerked upward, panting, his face pale and his eyes round with fear.

His green eyes were so _huge,_ Dr. Vanhallsen wasn't sure she was seeing them right. Hurriedly, she snatched the pair of glasses off of a cart and pressed them onto his face.

Third blinked, mutely, then looked up at her.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, reaching for her stethoscope. "I'm Dr. Vanhallsen. It's good to see you awake."

Third swallowed, rubbing his head. "How long have I been… out?"

"Since yesterday. Your friends were very worried about you."

The doctor didn't miss his reaction at the mention of his friends. It was like his whole face brightened—and he sat up straighter. "Percy and Alex were here?"

"Mhm. You'll most likely get more information from Dr. Oliver, but for now we need to get a check-up."

"Oh." Third slunk back against his pillows. "When will I be able to see them?"

"As soon as we know you're okay."

She couldn't wait to prove Dr. Oliver wrong.

 **A/N: Wow, okay. So yeah, maybe I had a bit too much time on my hands—but that's fine. :) I'm trying to get my next book's first draft done with before I work on too much else (but it shouldn't take too much longer, hooray). Thoughts on the chapter? I'd love to hear 'em.**


	11. Chapter 11

The TV screen flickered before him, muffled words in Mandarin that should be understood clearly. But now they were only echoes, like something was blocking his ears from hearing the real words.

"A British child has been abducted by unknown criminals last week… no leads have been found, including no motive for the abduction…"

Ian Rider gripped the remote control in his fingers so hard he thought it may break. And just as well, to feel the cutting of the wires pinch his skin or the smooth exterior fall to pieces, it would do him some good. Some twisted _therapy._

After all, it was what he deserved after he'd let this happen.

The picture appeared on the news station again, of a smiling blond boy—it was a school picture. Recent. Too recent.

 _They couldn't know who he was._ Whoever the kidnappers were.

They couldn't know who his _nephew_ was.

Or else Alex wouldn't be safe. Ever.

Ian had thought himself meticulous and careful, making sure every trace of him was wiped clean from every mission he completed, that no one saw him return to his bright-eyed nephew. The same bright-eyed, smart, resourceful nephew that had gotten _kidnapped_ last week.

And he hadn't even _been there!_

He made two phone calls.

One to MI6, telling them he was going to do his debriefing a little later than usual.

And one to Jack, the housekeeper.

Then he was catching the first plane back to Britain.

She hadn't gone to work in two weeks.

Her house was a mess—newspapers strung all over and her computer always left open on the table. She'd even locked the door to her bedroom countless nights, up until the early hours of the morning.

Sally Jackson was sick to her stomach. She sat at the same wooden table she had occupied for the past fourteen days, scrolling through every news page she could find. They all said the same thing.

' _New York boy kidnapped… no reason found… no leads…'_ And a peculiar string of theories, the most common one being with another boy who had been kidnapped yesterday. This boy was almost the exact opposite of her son—tan, with curls of blond hair and brown eyes. The news station had both used their most recent school pictures—and God, didn't her boy look so _young?_ So innocent?

She heard Gabe tramp through the next room, blocking out the loud sounds of men jeering and drinking around a poker table. Did he even know that Percy was missing? Did he even _care?_

 _No, of course he didn't. But he would keep Percy protected, and that was why she kept him around._

Except… Percy hadn't been protected from whoever had taken him, god or human. The worst part was that Sally knew it was all her fault. She hadn't been able to protect her boy.

 _She hadn't been able to protect her boy._

She rubbed at her aching temples, clicking on another news link.

They had to have _something,_ didn't they?

She didn't start getting worried after two days.

Or even a week.

But after two weeks, Petunia Dursley tapped her husband on the shoulder. "Vernon, honey, have you seen Harry?"

Her husband grunted. "Not since a few days ago, I reckon. The boy's probably got himself into some sort of shit already."

Petunia wrung her hands together. "But… but he hasn't been here, has he? Has Dudders seen him?"

"Ask him, then, I've got a client waiting at the office."

Petunia watched him leave with anxiety building up in her chest… and something else she couldn't quite place. She called softly up the stairs for her son, who came stomping down the steps ten minutes later.

"What is it, Mum? I was playing video games—"

"It'll just be a minute, dear, just a minute… have you seen Harry lately?"

Dudley wrinkled his nose. "No. Why?"

Petunia didn't answer him, instead rushing to the staircase. Dudley waddled after her, scratching at his nose. "He probably locked himself in there. Maybe he's _died."_

She ignored him, and rapped her knuckles on the cupboard door. "Harry? _Harry!"_

There was no answer.

Her hand was on the doorknob, when her son grabbed her wrist. "Mum, what are you doing? It's gross in there—Mummy?"

Petunia turned to face him. "I'm only checking something, Duddy. Go upstairs and play with your toys."

Dudley spun on his heel and tottered up the steps.

There was something very wrong here, Petunia knew. She knew it as she opened the cupboard and found it empty, the mattress made up neatly as if no one had slept there in days.

Her son's voice came floating back to her.

 _Maybe he's died._

Something clogged at her throat. Where would she be then? At the mercy of a powerful… she shivered. She didn't want to think about it. There were much more pressing things to be thinking about.

She was shaken out of her thoughts at the sound of a scream.

" _Mummy!_ Mummy, come look!"

Petunia didn't have time to think. She raced up the stairs and skidded into her son's room, where Dudley was gaping at his gaming computer. He was pointing his fat finger at the screen. "Isn't that Harry? I found him, don't you see?"

And found him he had. There, in blaring block letters, were the words _THREE BOYS GONE MISSING IN THE PAST FEW WEEKS._

Past… past few weeks? Petunia was sure she had missed something, or she hadn't read it right. But when she looked back at the blinking screen, she realized she hadn't misread it—'three boys, two from London and one from New York were abducted in the past few weeks.' It all was very brief: no leads, no known motivations, and no idea who the kidnappers were.

Petunia pinched at the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Oh, how the neighbors would _talk._

She couldn't exactly fly under the radar with the boy now, now that his face was plastered all over the news! She couldn't help but think that this was that old wizard's fault, that he had done it just to wreak havoc on her carefully sculpted social life…

But why bring the other two boys into the equation? To cover it up? No, that didn't make sense. The wizard was much too cunning for that.

This was something bigger, much bigger than her and her tiny house on Privet Drive, where her little world ended where the hedges did.

It spread all the way to _New York—_ so what did it _mean?_

Petunia reached for the phone and rung up her husband without a second thought.

If he faced an inquiry at work, Harry was going to be _killed_ for this.

Ian checked his watch and rubbed a hand across his face. It was past one in the morning, and Jack would no doubt be asleep. Damn. That meant he had to deal with this whole where-the-hell-was-your-ward thing in a few hours.

Or maybe… Jack had given up? Had blown off Alex completely, leaving him to be kidnapped from an empty house?

That didn't make sense, though. Why would that happen at the same time as the kidnapping in New York?

Ian twisted the key into place, entering his dark house. He crossed into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks before entering —

The light was on.

 _Someone broke in._

Ian knew a hundred ways to kill a person. Would that be enough? Maybe he'd left too hastily from Hong Kong, and someone had followed him here, to finish him off?

Then… why would they be using his microwave?

Ian slid his fingers towards his waistband, where his back-up gun rested. He stepped into the kitchen, poised for a fight…

" _Jack?"_

The red-haired American woman looked up immediately, straightening from her spot next to the microwave. "Oh, God, _Ian—_ I didn't think you'd be back so soon! I tried to call, obviously, but…"

Ian folded his hands, releasing his hidden firearm. "I didn't have my phone with me, I'm sorry…" which was half-way true, he _hadn't_ had his phone on him, but a burner phone supplied by MI6. "I saw the news—what _happened?"_

Jack raked her hands through her hair. "You think _I_ know? I had Alex bike to school last week—watching him out the window to make sure he got across safely, of course—but it must've been… before he got there that he…" She stopped, then, swiping at her eyes. "Look, I don't know what they could want with him. He's a sweet kid, you know, but… honestly, Ian, what could they _want?_ A ransom? You're not…" She raised an eyebrow at him, as if suddenly suspicious. "You're not secretly rich, are you?"

Ian shook his head. Cold dread had already taken over his body, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh in anticipation. "No, I'm not… I don't know what they could want with Alex, either."

"I hope he put up a good fight," Jack said, thoughtfully. "He's getting good at karate, did you know? Hopefully he got a kick in before they… _took him,_ I guess…"

Next to her, the microwave beeped.

"I'll get that."

Ian leaned against the counter as Jack opened the microwave to bring out a bowl of steaming macaroni and cheese.

 _How American._

She must have sensed his scrutiny, for she asked, "Do you want me to make you some tea?"

Ian shook his head. "I'll be fine." What he really needed was coffee.

He sat down in the sitting room, shifting through the TV channels. The news was on, and he was about to switch from it when words took over the screen that caught his eye.

 _THREE BOYS MISSING IN THE PAST FEW WEEKS._

Three?

There it was: a picture of a dark-haired boy from New York, Alex's picture, and a photograph of another London boy with glasses.

"Don't you think it's a coincidence?" Jack asked, sitting down next to him on the couch.

"No."

Ian didn't believe in coincidences.

 **A/N:** **Percy, Alex, and Harry will be back next chapter, I promise-but I couldn't resist doing the parents' reactions to their sons/nephews being kidnapped.** **** **Thoughts?**


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